Requiem of a Dream
by Lizard23
Summary: The war is over, though Hermione Granger's life is no less complicated or dangerous. Severus Snape makes a miraculous return from the dead and everything Hermione thought she knew comes crashing down around her. HG/SS *Nominated for the Quibbler Awards*
1. Chapter 1

_"Change is the constant, the signal for rebirth, the egg of the phoenix."_

-Christina Baldwin

* * *

**1. The Return**

* * *

"I don't believe in love," Hermione Granger stated slowly, clearly. 

The room at large fell into a deep hush as the panel of Aurors whispered amongst themselves. Hermione could feel her heart pounding loudly in her chest as she shifted nervously in the uncomfortable chair they had provided her at the very center of the room. Her eyes scanned over each of the Aurors at the head table where a shiny name plate lay discreetly bearing the words, '_Board of Directors, Auror Department_', until her gaze, at last, rested on the Auror on the far right side of the panel; her best friend, Harry Potter.

Harry's brow was furrowed with intense irritation at her last comment, but before Hermione could mouth him an apology, the Head Auror had stood and was now loudly clearing his throat.

"Hermione Granger," spoke William Buckley with such an authoritative tone that Hermione's undivided attention was immediately honed into his pale, weathered face, "You have hereby been interviewed, tested, and tried; and are found capable to serve as an Auror under the jurisdiction of the Ministry of Magic's Auror Department in London."

Hermione's breath hitched up slightly as she gripped the wooden armrest of her chair while Auror Buckley's focus turned to every other wizard in the room.

"Those in favor of Hermione Granger's initiation may manifest it by way of hand."

Hermione slowly glanced around the room as she saw the vast majority of hands rise in the air, including her dark-haired best friend's.

"Those opposed, if any," Auror Buckley asked as he glanced around the room.

A few hands rose in deathly silence and Hermione felt much like the time when she had scrambled to open her O.W.L. scores - a feeling of complete and overwhelming dread.

She sank further into the rickety chair.

"Hermione Granger," Auror Buckley stated loudly as his pale blue eyes locked with hers, "Welcome aboard. You are hereby known for now and always as an Auror under the service of the Ministry of Magic." A small smile appeared over his thin lips, "Congratulations."

And suddenly, the deafening silence that had just previously overwhelmed the room was interrupted with several chairs moving, papers shuffling, and the voices of Aurors speaking one with another regarding the day's events.

Hermione stood quickly from the uncomfortable chair just as Harry made his way down from the stage to greet her.

"Merlin, Hermione," Harry said by way of greeting, "Did you have to sound so damn bitter and cynical?"

Hermione regarded him exasperatedly, "Harry, I was under Veritaserum, I obviously was incapable of telling a lie."

Harry was ready with a retort before Hermione interrupted him, "And I wasn't the one that chose the questions, Harry. So just drop it."

Harry rolled his eyes as he looked fondly at his friend. Beneath the twenty-five year-old woman that stood before him was the same eleven year-old bossy know-it-all that he knew and loved so well. Hermione was nearly as tall as he was (though he never claimed to be all that tall for a man). Her bushy brown hair had darkened some with age and was infinitely less wild. Harry knew that she would never have the silky, straight hair that his fiancé, Ginny Weasley, had - though he had seen, on two separate occasions, Ginny commandeering some of her hair straightening potions and giving them to Hermione when they both thought he wasn't looking.

He wondered if it would ever do to bring it up.

_Probably not._

They walked in silence for a moment as they exited the very room where Harry had his trial of being falsely accused with the misuse of underage magic so many years ago. He still hated coming down to the Department of Mysteries after everything that happened with his godfather, but the frequent hearings with the Auror Department were unavoidable, and he slowly began to realize that pressing on to catch dark witches and wizards would have been what Sirius wanted him to do.

Eventually, the pain had dulled.

"Hermione," said Harry as they worked their way around a group of congregating wizards, "I still don't understand how you can say that you don't believe in love. I mean, after everything that we've been through - "

"Harry," Hermione interrupted as they made their way to the lift that led back up to the main Atrium, "...really, I'm not bitter. Ron and I...well, we just weren't meant to be. No matter how hard we tried, it just wasn't going to ever happen."

Harry eyed her skeptically as he stood back for her to enter the lift.

"Really, Harry," Hermione continued, as she walked into the small space, "I'm happy for Ron. Quiddiitch, I think, has always been his first and only love," she chuckled, "I couldn't stop him even if I wanted to. How would that have been fair to him if I had held him back?"

Harry folded his arms as he leaned back against the grated wall while the lift began to rise. Hermione regarded him with quiet wonder as they rose to the Atrium. Harry, she was readily convinced, was more hurt by her fallout with Ron than she had been. After the fall of Voldemort, she, Harry, Ron, and Ginny had all entertained the fantasy of some long awaited Utopia. The 'happily ever after' part had worked out well for Harry and Ginny. With Voldemort gone, Harry was finally able to emotionally allow himself to fall in love without the fear of anyone using that love against him, and he and Ginny had been inseparable ever since.

Hermione and Ron were, well...a completely different story. They had dated immediately after the war only to discover that the bickering and fighting that had been playful and endearing while they were at school was something more of a problem. Simply put, Ron was in love with Quidditch. And his dream to play for some Quidditch team in some distant country was all that consumed him.

Hermione, on the other hand, was in love with academia. And so while Ron made great plans to try out for any Quidditch team that would so much as look at him, Hermione had continued with her education. Continued so far, in fact, that at the age of twenty-four, Hermione was appointed as the youngest witch in history to take a post and teach at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Differences aside, Hermione and Ron had called it what it was and went their separate ways, much to Harry and Ginny's dismay.

It had hurt at first, as all fallouts do, but what surprised Hermione more than anything was that she missed Ron's companionship really only in the line and sight of friendship. The 'Golden Trio' and their infamous days at Hogwarts. _That _was how she missed Ron - solely in the context of being her and Harry's friend. Greatly frustrated with this newly acquired revelation, Hermione had decided that _love_, whatever that infernal word was or meant in any sense, was not for her.

_If everything that Ron and I went through wasn't strong enough to bring us together, then there is no force on earth that could possibly move me to feel whatever it is that 'love' truly is._

"Hermione," Harry said, interrupting her from her reverie, "I just..." he trailed off, as their lift reached the Atrium and they emerged head-first into a crowd of hundreds of witches and wizards, "...I guess, I really just want you to be happy."

Hermione eyed him fondly as they made their way over to the lifts that led to the Auror offices.

"Harry, whatever you may think or believe," Hermione began as they made their way through the crowded Atrium, "I really am happy. I love being at Hogwarts, and I love teaching. I can't wait for term to start again - "

"Which still blows the mind," Harry interrupted as the crowd began to thin, "...that you think you have time to be a professor at Hogwarts and to be a practicing Auror, as well."

"Part-time Auror," Hermione corrected as they boarded another lift.

"Are you sure you're happy?" Harry asked as the lift closed and they were encompassed in silence.

Hermione looked into his striking green eyes and nodded.

Of course there were times when it was just herself, Harry and Ginny, and she felt strangely out of place. But like everything that life had thrown her way up to that point; Hermione was confident she could handle it. She didn't need love. She had Harry, Ginny, her parents, and the professors at Hogwarts. That was enough. That was more that what most people had.

She knew she was lucky.

The lift opened once more and Hermione and Harry walked through the quite hallway that intersected the Auror offices. There were a few witches and wizards mingling about that had not been part of Hermione's initiation and a few of them stopped her.

"Just heard the news!" Christopher Willden exclaimed as he passed both Hermione and Harry en route in the opposite direction, "Wonderful that you'll be joining us, Hermione!"

"Thank you, Christopher," Hermione replied kindly as Harry moved passed her.

After a few strides, Harry paused at a door on the left and fished out his wand. As he silently unlocked the door, Hermione's eyes moved to the golden name plate on the center of the door which proudly stated:

_HARRY POTTER - AUROR_

_Board of Directors, Auror Department_

"Subtle," said Hermione, and Harry stood back to let her in.

Harry rolled his eyes, "Always were quite the comedian, weren't you?"

Hermione entered the cluttered office and turned back to face him, "After an entire childhood with you and Ron, how could I not be?"

Harry smiled as he reached for a file on his desk. The entire office, Hermione mused, looked as though it had been hit by a hurricane.

"I see you're organized as always," she offered.

Harry smirked, "Of course."

He fingered through the files for a moment before continuing, "They just moved me into this office. Haven't quite had the time yet for housekeeping."

"I see," Hermione supplied with a passive face. Her tone, however, indicated to Harry that his explanation was a poorly offered excuse.

"Here they are," Harry finally said, as Hermione struggled around a precariously leaning tower of boxes. "These are all the forms that you'll need. Just go through and sign them. Oh, and don't be too deterred to all the references to '_in the event of said person's death_' - it's all precautionary."

Hermione chuckled softly as she rounded the boxes, "Right. There's no beating around the bush at all here, is there?"

Harry grinned, "Not really. No."

Hermione fingered through the files and scanned over a few documents as Harry approached her, sandwiching himself between two stacks of filing cabinets.

"So, do you have any questions or anything?"

Hermione shook her head, her eyes still scanning over the paperwork she needed to sign.

"Right then, well, since you're a part-time Auror, when you report, you'll be reporting to me as your immediate supervisor."

Hermione looked up with a wide smile on her face, "Bet you've been waiting all day to say that," she baited.

Harry smiled broadly, looking much like the eleven-year old she had met on the Hogwarts Express so very long ago, "Of course."

Hermione was just about to counter the jab when, without warning, a blinding white light from something small and silver came bursting into Harry's disastrous office. Graceful and gleaming, the owl perched itself onto of a particularly precarious tower of files. The Patronus's beak opened with power and purpose and spoke authoritatively in the voice of Minerva McGonagall.

_"Emergency Order meeting. Old Headquarters. You have five minutes."_

Several seconds after the owl faded into nothingness, Hermione and Harry both continued to stare atop the file tower it had only just previously occupied. Hermione was the first to speak.

"Order meeting?" she stammered, "We haven't had an Order meeting since before - "

"Since before the war," Harry concluded for her.

Finally, Harry snapped into action. "Come on, let's go. NOW, Hermione," he added loudly as he grabbed her arm when she continued to stare at the top of the clutter.

Hermione unceremoniously threw her paperwork down on top of Harry's chaotic desk as he pulled her roughly out of his office. He barreled heavily down the hallway, much to the surprise and dismay of a few startled wizards, with his grip firmly on Hermione's wrist.

"Harry!" Hermione protested as she struggled to keep up with him, "Let go of me! I can't run with you dragging me!"

Harry released his grip on her wrist only to take her by the upper arm and practically threw Hermione into the lift that would take them down to the main Atrium of the Ministry of Magic.

Their heavy breathing dominated the silence of the lift.

"Has it always gone this slow?" Hermione asked impatiently, rubbing her wrist and looking at the level marker on the top of the lift.

Harry seemed to have not heard her.

"What if...Ginny...what if something happened to Ginny?"

Hermione turned her head to look back at Harry with something of compassion in her eyes, "Harry, I doubt McGonagall would call an entire Order meeting about Ginny without alerting you to the problem first. I'm sure Ginny's just fine. She was with George all day, right?"

Harry, still in some sort of daze and staring straight ahead at nothing in particular, nodded.

"Yeah, at the joke shop. She's practically full-time there, now - helping George out, and all."

Hermione nodded as she grabbed his hand firmly, "I'm sure she's fine, Harry."

Her touch seemed to awaken him from his daze and his piercing green eyes locked with Hermione's for a brief moment before the lift came to a halt.

The Atrium was packed.

Cursing loudly and grabbing Hermione by the upper arm once more, Harry pulled her through the crowd. They bumped, collided, and smacked into a countless number of witches and wizards that were heading in the opposite direction.

"Hey, watch it!" Someone shouted as Harry slammed into an innocent bystander. The wizard, turning to see that it was Harry Potter who had run into him, continued with his shouting, "I don't care if you _are_ bloody _Harry Potter_ or the queen; watch where you're going!"

Harry, too distraught and determined to deem a reply, continued pushing his way through the crowd.

"We're sorry!" Hermione shouted for him, as Harry continued to cart her through the traffic, "It's an emergency! Oh! Sorry!"

After what seemed to be an eternity, Harry and Hermione reached the main entrance, and without a second glance, Harry had dragged them both up and out of the Ministry. Searching frantically through her robes for her wand, Hermione turned towards Harry, who already had his arm around hers.

"Side-along?" She asked with confusion.

Harry nodded, "I'm not taking any chances. I don't know what's happening."

Before Hermione had time to reply, she felt the familiar, albeit uncomfortable, compression of Apparation as she was whisked away into darkness.

* * *

The front steps to Grimmauld Place looked as much the same as Hermione had remembered them to be, some seven years prior. Slightly worse for wear, they creaked loudly as Harry and Hermione quickly scaled them and pounded heavily on the front door. 

Not two seconds later, the sound of muffled footsteps briskly approaching resonated from within.

"Who is it?" The muted voice of Minerva McGonagall called from behind the front door.

"Harry Potter and Hermione Granger," Harry shouted, impatiently.

"What happened in Ravenclaw Tower the night that Voldemort was defeated?" Minerva's stern voice asked.

"Bloody hell," Harry swore under his breath as he ran a nervous hand through his unruly hair, "I was under the invisibility cloak and Carrow had broken in, searching for me. He spit at you and I cursed him."

There was the deadened sound of hinges unlatching as Minerva undid the wards. A few seconds later, she stood before them, eying Hermione suspiciously.

"Trust me," said Harry as he ushered Hermione into the dark and narrow hallway, "It's the real Hermione."

The Headmistress's expression softened immensely as she quickly embraced them both.

"What's going on?" Harry demanded as he walked further into hallway, careful to close the blinds of Mrs. Black's portrait for Hermione's sake. "Is Ginny here? Is she okay?"

Minerva nodded quickly, "Yes, she's here and fine, dear. The Order's all here. You two were the last to arrive."

"What's happening, Headmistress?" Hermione asked quietly from behind Harry's tense form, "We've been extremely worried."

Minerva gave her a sympathetic smile before patting them both fondly, "Everyone is fine. Please, come in so that I can explain why we're all here."

Harry didn't need to be told twice and strode quickly down the lengthy hallway and into the kitchen, where the entire Order of the Phoenix sat, looking extremely puzzled.

Harry's eyes sought for ginger hair, and the moment he saw Ginny, he practically threw himself at her.

"Alright everyone," Minerva began as she and Hermione appeared through the sagging post and lintel entryway to the kitchen. "We're all here now, so we can begin."

Hermione quickly walked forward and wedged herself through the long bench of the kitchen table between Mr. Weasley and Professor Sprout.

Without knowing why, her eyes scanned the table until she found Ron, who was looking at her, rather indifferently.

"I apologize for the panic and the secrecy," Minerva McGonagall began, as she stood at the head of the lengthy table and addressed the room at large. The table consisted of every Weasley, minus Fred, who had been killed in the final battle, Fleur Delacour, Professor Sprout, Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, Hagrid, Lee Jordan, Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnigan, and three Aurors who worked at the Ministry that Hermione only knew from brief acquaintance: Desh Blackwater, Rebecca Brandon, and Bowen Keetch.

"Let me first assure you," Minerva continued, "...that there are no injuries, abductions, or deaths to report. Out meeting here this evening is on an entirely different purpose, I assure you."

Harry glanced across the table and locked eyes with Hermione. She knew he was thinking the same thing that she was.

_Then why drag us all here for an emergency meeting?_

"Our meeting here tonight," Minerva pressed on, "...is something quite the opposite, actually. Of gaining an old comrade, as it were."

Hermione's brow furrowed in confusion.

_An old comrade?_

"Everyone here in the Order, I am certain, was made aware of certain events surrounding and just prior to the death of Severus Snape."

Hermione's eyes darted over to Harry's as her heart began pounding furiously and her breath hitched up in her throat.

_Snape?_

"I want all of you," Minerva said as her eyes, shielded behind spectacles, locked specifically on Harry, "...to take a moment to reflect on those events before I continue any further."

Now, everyone at the table was looking around at one another, trying to determine if Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and current leader of the Order of the Phoenix, was completely and utterly mad.

Snape, as they all knew, had been killed by Voldemort's snake and personal Horcrux, Nagini, during the final battle at Hogwarts. Hermione, along with Harry and Ron, had witnessed the grizzly death first person. The scene of Nagini biting viciously at Snape's pale throat had haunted Hermione's dreams more times that she had cared to remember.

A shadow moved behind McGonagall, just outside the tiny entryway to the kitchen, and Hermione felt as though her heart might explode just out of shear inability to continue pounding as quickly as it currently was.

A creak of the floorboards, and a man emerged from out of the shadows. His black eyes carefully surveyed each person in turn, and paused briefly on Hermione's startled face.

The silence in the room was nearly tangible - every breath held in some sort of reverence, some sort of wondering bewilderment as the entire Order of the Phoenix stared in fear and awe at the looming form of Severus Snape.

* * *

_A/N: Hey folks! Please, if you would, take a second and let me know if you think this looks like an interesting fic. I've been stewing over this one for quite some time now, and am really looking forward to writing it. Reviews are always encouraging to me! Thanks!_


	2. Chapter 2

_"The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong."_

- Gandhi

* * *

**Chapter 2: The Prince**

* * *

There was silence in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place for the space of exactly thirty-seven seconds; Hermione counted. 

The uneasy silence, however, was interrupted by Harry's less than articulate exclamation of, "But...you're dead."

Hermione wished in that moment that she were sitting next to Harry so that she could kick him for making such a moronic comment. But she abruptly realized, with a sudden dawning clarity, that his exclamation was the only thing that was chasing itself around her head, thirty-seven times over.

A flicker of a smile appeared on Snape's face; and then it was gone.

"Astute as ever, Mr. Potter," Snape replied.

Another lengthy pause of awkward silence - though Hermione forgot to count this time - and Harry asked the question that she, herself, was longing to ask.

"But...how?"

Snape's gaze again surveyed the room at large, and once more, rested upon Hermione for a brief moment. His eyes, she concluded as she lowered her own to her fidgeting hands, were difficult to meet. There was something disturbing about the inability to distinguish where the brown of his irises met the black of the pupil. And alarmingly; they always seemed to know too much. Obviously, the man was a genius with Legilimency, but for Hermione; it extended well beyond mind reading powers.

Several seconds after she had lowered her eyes, Hermione still sensed his penetrating gaze lingering on her.

"Voldemort," Snape said, breaking the silence with the startling use of the dark wizard's forbidden name, "...never played favorites. Every Death Eater was a pawn - a dispensable pawn in his quest for power. Anyone that trusted or believed otherwise was a fool," he spat, bitterly.

Pausing for a moment, Snape stared pensively at no place in particular - though every eye in the room was honed in on the slightest twitch of his wrist, the furrow of his brow, or the shift in his gaze. "Knowing this," he continued slowly, "I immediately began procuring venom from Nagini the moment Voldemort obtained the snake."

_Of course. _

It was almost annoyingly obvious.

"How could you have obtained venom from the snake without Voldemort noticing?" Bowen Keetch asked from the far back reaches of the table. Hermione turned around to see who had spoken, and discovered a visibly angered Hagrid wedged in the back corner of the kitchen.

"With more ease than you might imagine," Snape replied, fingering an ebony wand with his ivory fingers. "I simply took it from Nagini's victims after Voldemort had sent her."

Bowen appeared to be waiting for further explanation, but when Snape's piercing gaze was the only response he received; he quietly sank back onto the sagging bench.

Snape swallowed thickly and then turned somewhat nervously to Minerva McGonagall, who had been standing behind him in the shadow of the entryway. She slowly walked forward and gently rested a hand on Snape's arm. Something passed between their glances in that moment, something significant and real, but before Hermione had time to think on it; McGonagall was again addressing the Order, and Snape had retreated through the entryway and out of sight.

"I know this must come as a shock to all of you," she said audibly as her firm gaze circled the kitchen, "...but Severus Snape, as you well know, has done more for this organization than anyone...with the exception perhaps being it's founder, Albus Dumbledore."

She let her words hang in the air like a raincloud ready to burst.

No one dared to contradict her.

"Severus," she continued, when the silence lingered, "...will be taking his old position at Hogwarts as Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. No one, as I'm sure you can imagine, is more qualified in that particular field than he."

When the silence continued to permeate the kitchen, Minerva sighed exasperatedly, "Merlin's beard! Someone please say something!"

To Hermione's surprise and utter bewilderment, Harry slowly stood from the tightly packed bench opposite the table from where she sat and hesitated as he carefully fingered a hem on the sleeve of his robe.

"Anyone that has a problem with Snape," he said quietly, looking up and surveying the table at large, "...has a problem with me." He let the words linger in the air a moment before he continued. "Now, I've got more reason than anyone in this room to hate him, but..._no one_ saw what _I_ saw in the Pensieve that day. _No one_. And as far as I'm concerned," he trailed off as he sought Ginny's face beside him, "...the man is a hero."

Hermione looked at her best friend with something of admiration in her countenance.

_You've grown up, Harry._

And then a sudden thought struck her as powerfully as a Bludger to the stomach.

_Defense Against the Dark Arts? _

_I'm going to be teaching with Snape?_

"Thank you, Harry," Minerva said fondly as she placed a hand on his shoulder and then turned to the table, "I'm not anticipating anyone having any issues with Severus. And if anyone would like to speak with me privately regarding this matter, I am more than happy to do so."

"Now," she continued as Harry returned to his seat, "...on another pressing matter. We are in need of a new location for Headquarters. Grimmauld Place, as you all well know, is no longer the secure haven it once was."

Hagrid mumbled something indiscreet in the back of the kitchen as Minerva narrowed her eyes at the gamekeeper and continued, "We met here today for the sole reason of emergency. Severus' return from the dead, as it were, was an immediate priority. I was not about to let rumors and whispers go flying around the wizarding community - spreading falsehood, lies, and Merlin knows what else. I felt not only that the Order deserved to hear the news straight from the source, but also that you all might have a head start with your individual reconciliations." She paused while she surveyed the room - daring anyone to contradict her.

"And so now we must now look into another location for Headquarters. Multiple Secret Keepers, I fear, would be a dangerous game to play. I will be working closely with Bill and Charlie regarding this manner and will hopefully have something to report within a fortnight. If anyone has any suggestions or location ideas that might be useful, please come speak with me immediately."

The occupants of the table instantly began conversing and Minerva had to shout over the commotion, "Meeting dismissed! Bill! Charlie! I need to speak with you both right away!"

Hermione looked around the chaos of the table at Grimmauld Place and felt vaguely as though she were in some sort of surreal dream.

Every Weasley looked bright faced and nervous, Harry and Ginny were whispering frantically to one another, and Neville Longbottom appeared just plain terrified.

Hermione, however, was lost in her own thoughts and sat quietly as everyone moved around her.

_Snape's been alive all this time..._

But where had he been?

When had he contacted the Headmistress?

And what was the purpose of coming out of hiding now?

Snape was a ghost that had, quite literally, haunted her dreams since the final battle. And there were still so many questions left unanswered. A part of Hermione - the eleven-year old girl with an insatiable thirst for knowledge and an almost frightening determination to get answers - was practically throwing herself out of the kitchen to track Snape down and question him on every thought that happened to pop into her head. The more sensible part, however, was bolting her rear end to the kitchen bench, reasoning that it really was none her business.

_And it's not as though Snape and I were ever on friendly terms where I would actually feel comfortable asking him anything in the first place. _

_No,_ Hermione reasoned to herself, _Snape has always despised everything about me. My House, my choice of friends - the fact that I was an 'insufferable know-it-all'. _

_Surely, he won't want anything to do with me._

"Hermione," Harry was saying loudly, interrupting her thoughts, "Hermione! Hey! Earth to Hermione!"

Hermione looked up from her folded hands to see Harry, Ginny, and a particularly nervous looking Ron staring down at her.

"Oh," Hermione said with embarrassment, "Sorry. I was...just thinking."

"You okay?" Harry asked.

Hermione nodded, "Hi, Ron. Good to see you."

Ron's face reddened to the color of his hair and he replied nervously, "Er...good to see you too, Hermione."

Ginny and Harry exchanged a significant glance before Harry pulled Hermione to her feet.

"Could I have a word?"

Hermione's brow furrowed in confusion, "Of course, Harry."

With a quick peck on the cheek to Ginny, Harry led Hermione out of the loud kitchen and into the darkened hallway towards the main level drawing room.

"What's going on, Harry?" Hermione asked, as they entered the gloomy room.

Harry was looking over his shoulder to see if they had been followed before he replied, "Nothing. You're sure you're alright, Hermione?"

"Harry," she admonished, taking a step closer to him, "Shouldn't I be the one asking you that question?"

Harry smiled and looked down at his feet, "I'm fine, Hermione. Really. It's...it's unbelievable, obviously...but it's..." he trailed off and then looked Hermione straight in the face. "The man loved my mother, Hermione. He spent his entire life trying to redeem himself for his mistake...," he paused, "...how could I fault him for that?"

Hermione said nothing but stared quietly into Harry's face.

"And...I saw his worst memory. I know why he hated my dad," he continued as he began to pace around the room, "When I first got to Hogwarts, all anyone ever said to me was how much I looked like my dad. It's obvious that every time he saw me he made that same connection. I just...I can't fault him, Hermione. I can't."

Hermione smiled softly, to Harry's bemusement.

"What?"

"Nothing," Hermione chuckled, "It's just, I'm trying to imagine your fifteen-year-old self saying that to me."

"Honestly, Hermione," Harry sighed, "Just because I was immature then doesn't mean that I was destined to be for the rest of my life."

"I know, Harry. I know," Hermione offered as she took a step towards him, "But I think you're handling it the right way. There's no sense in disputing Snape's true motives. We all know that he served Dumbledore to the very end. And truthfully, I don't know how anyone could hold a grudge against such a cause - despite how unpleasant he always was to us."

Harry grinned for a moment and then became somber, "Do you think that...that people might question why I'm not having a fit about the whole thing? I mean, before long, his survival is going to be plastered across front page of the _Daily Prophet._"

Hermione shook her head, "And since when do you care what people think about you, Harry Potter? The whole of London is surely going to have an opinion on the matter, and who gives a rat's arse what they think? These are the same people that claimed you were daft when you said that Voldemort had returned. Let them think what they want to think," she concluded dramatically. "You just need to worry about going on with your life."

Harry nodded pensively for a moment and then looked at Hermione, "You're right. You're always right, Hermione."

She smiled, "Of course I am."

"But you," Harry pressed, stepping so they were directly facing one another, "...are you okay? I know that you had nightmares about the night he was killed...er...I mean, the night that it happened, for a long time after..."

Hermione sighed and looked at her hands. She was silent for a long moment before she said quietly, "The nightmares were worse when the after-effects of the Cruciatus caught up with me," she supplied, "I haven't...it's been a long time since the last one."

"How long?" Harry asked.

"Close to a year."

"Good," he replied, relief etched in his voice.

But then an expression on Hermione's face caught him off guard, "What? What's wrong?"

Hermione shuffled her feet over the dusty floorboards for a moment before answering, "It's just that...that in my dreams...Snape was specifically calling out to _me_ to help him when Nagini was closing in around his throat. Somehow, it was only _me _that he needed. And...in the nightmare, I was never quite able to reach him in time. But earlier, Harry, in the kitchen, he looked at me...in a way that he has never looked at me before..."

Harry's brow furrowed, "What kind of way?"

"I don't know!" Hermione sighed with exasperation as she moved around him and faced a moth-eaten wall with her arms crossed over her chest, "It was just...completely different."

Harry continued to stare at Hermione quietly until she finally offered, "It was almost as if it was the first time that he had actually looked _at_ me."

"But, Hermione," Harry countered, "You were in his class everyday for six years...he always looked at you."

Hermione shook her head as she remained facing the wall, "You don't understand, Harry. At school he saw the Gryffindor, Harry Potter's best friend, know-it-all extraordinaire - the complete outer layer of the surface. But back there, in the kitchen, it was almost as if he saw, for the first time, something _beyond_ that."

Harry appeared dumbfounded, "You got all that out of one tiny glance?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and shook her head, "Never mind, Harry. Really, it's not a big deal. I'm sure you're right - I'm probably just stewing too much over something that isn't really there."

"Well, if it's bothering you - "

"No, Harry," Hermione interrupted, "It's fine. You're right. Forget I ever said anything."

Harry shrugged, "Okay. If you're sure you're fine, I won't bring it up again."

"I'm fine," she assured him.

The sound of muffled voices roaming through the hallway caught Harry's attention. "Well," he said as he ran a hand through his unruly hair, "We should probably head back. I'm sure Ginny's wondering where we got off to," he paused, "And it's probably not the brightest idea to linger much longer here anyway...what with it not being completely secure and all."

Hermione nodded, "Go on ahead. I'm just going to collect my thoughts."

When Harry raised an eyebrow in her direction, she replied with a smile, "I'll only be a moment longer."

Harry returned the gesture and then quickly exited the dingy room, leaving Hermione to the darkness.

The room, Hermione realized, while walking toward an extremely unkempt window, was the same room that she, Harry, and Ron had stayed in after they had fled Bill and Fleur's wedding and began the hunt for Horcruxes.

_Seven years ago._

_Merlin, where does the time go?_

Still staring at the filthy window, Hermione discovered a large crack where the jagged glass met the pane. With narrowed eyes, she carefully wiped some of the grime away with her index finger.

_Had someone tried to break in since she, Harry, and, Ron had last been here?_

_But how could that be? _

_It was impossible...unless someone that had inadvertently become Secret Keeper when Dumbledore died let something slip..._

"Oh! Dammit!" Hermione swore as she pulled her finger back from the window, a crimson stream of liquid pouring down her pale finger.

The cut wasn't horribly deep, she discovered, pulling her finger from her mouth. But for some infernal reason it was bleeding as though her entire hand had been splinched off.

"Brilliant," she muttered.

The floorboards creaked behind her and she turned, her head still bent over her finger.

"Sorry, Harry, I was just on my way when I - "

Hermione stopped.

The man that was staring back at her was not Harry Potter.

Tall, dark, and somewhat foreboding, Severus Snape carefully crossed the expanse of the shadowed room to where Hermione stood.

The ancient wood groaned with each step, but his movements were careful, deliberate, and precise. Absurdly, it reminded Hermione of the Muggle movies where the antagonist puts the gun on the ground, raises his hands, and cautiously walks forward. The movements were purposeful; and Hermione felt certain that it was his way of showing her that he meant no harm.

At least, she hoped that's what it was.

Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but surprisingly, strangely - for perhaps the first time in recent memory, she didn't know what to say.

Snape stood before her in complete silence, towering quietly over her tall form. His eyes, both fascinating and terrifying, did not waver from her own. And so, for the second time within the last hour, Hermione was the first to lower her gaze.

After several moments, when she had finally summoned the courage to meet his eyes again, she saw that his right hand was extended slightly towards her. She looked curiously at the nimble hand, then back to his solemn face before returning her attention, once more, to the proffered hand.

_An offering?_

_A truce?_

_What in the name of Merlin was the man trying to do?_

And then Hermione felt the warm liquid travel down the length of her finger and onto the backside of her hand. When she looked back up at Snape's face, she was surprised to find that he was no longer focusing his intense gaze upon her. His attention, it seemed, had turned to the stark contrast of red against white on her hand.

When his gaze again shifted to Hermione's face, he extended his hand forward slightly farther.

_Sweet heaven, _Hermione realized with a start.

_He's asking permission to see my hand._

And so slowly, hesitantly, Hermione offered her hand so that it rested in the air halfway between their upright forms. With a fleeting glance at Hermione's perplexed face, Snape closed the remainder of the distance and took her hand in his own.

His skin felt cool and rough.

Gently, he turned her hand over in his own as he deftly fished his ebony wand from his robes. With one final glance at Hermione, he bent and concentrated on her throbbing hand. The curtain of his black hair cast a shadow over his face and Hermione was finally able to observe him without fear of being caught.

He was _tall_.

An inarticulate observation, to say the least, but Hermione couldn't help but notice how small she felt standing beside him. It was an unfamiliar sensation. She would often tease Harry about their closeness in height, and the last time she had stood next to Ron was, well, a long time ago. His hair was as black as ever and his pale skin stood out abruptly in contrast against his dark robes.

And somehow, strangely, he didn't seem quite as thin as he once had appeared. Maybe it was a mere trick of the eye in the poor lighting, or perhaps the man was finally able to have a decent meal, instead of being privy to two sides of the war; Hermione wasn't quite sure.

Snape brushed her fingertip in that moment, and she took in a sharp breath.

He looked up in alarm, apparently startled that he had elicited some form of minor pain within her. He didn't speak, but something in the depths of his eyes stirred, as if he were pleading forgiveness.

Hermione swallowed and nodded for him to continue.

Muttering quietly to himself, he skillfully maneuvered his wand over her finger and instantaneously; the pain was gone. With another quick flick, the blood on her finger vanished. The moment the task was complete, he carefully dropped her hand and took a step back.

Hermione raised her finger to her face and studied it closely. Her Auror training required minimal healing techniques as an obvious precaution for the occasional occupational hazards, but every attempt Hermione had ever made left some sort of mark or indication that there had been an injury. And as she continued to observe her finger, she was startled to discover that there was no mark to be found.

It was completely flawless.

And then she looked up and made eye contact again.

There was a shift in his eyes, and Hermione again had the impression that he was seeing something beyond the girl she had been at school.

_And what do you see in me?_

She swallowed thickly after a long moment and said quietly, "Thank you."

He nodded solemnly and stood back to let her pass. Hermione regarded him curiously and then slowly walked through the darkened room, still holding her finger. When she was finally out of the room and down the hallway, Snape lowered his gaze and carefully fingered his wand.

"You're welcome," he whispered.

* * *

_A/N: This chapter was a little tougher to write. I would IMMENSELY appreciate feedback. The good, the bad, and the ugly. (Please be kind in your constructive criticism!) Reviews are what motivate me to update more quickly! Thanks! _


	3. Chapter 3

_"Confusion now hath made his masterpiece!"_

-William Shakespeare

* * *

**Chapter 3: The Meeting**

* * *

"You seem awfully quite today," Harry Potter said to his friend as they made their way to the Apparation point. 

Lost in her thoughts, Hermione checked herself mid-stride and looked over at her dark-haired companion.

"Sorry, Harry," she offered weakly, "...just a lot on my mind, I suppose."

Harry regarded her doubtfully as he continued to make his way through the crowded London street, "I reckon you've had a lot on your mind since the meeting at Grimmauld Place last week, then," he supplied with surprising venom in his voice, "You've hardly said two words to me since we spoke in the drawing room."

Hermione completely halted her step and eyed Harry angrily, "I would think that_ you_ above _all_ people, Harry Potter, would understand what it's like to have a lot on your mind," she countered with a fury in her voice, "Especially since I have stood by you without question in the past, even when you refused to let me in. And now you won't return the same courtesy?"

Harry's green eyes sobered immediately and he paused, walked the few steps back to where Hermione remained firmly planted, and gently guided her through the traffic towards a narrow alleyway. Once in the safety and quietude of the dank and cramped space, Harry grabbed both of Hermione's small hands in his and looked her directly in the eye.

"Hermione, I'm..." he trailed off looking somewhat lost, "I'm sorry. You're completely right...you have _always_ stood by me without question. I was wrong to accuse you like that. It's just...," he paused, running a hand through his unruly hair, "...if something is bothering you, you know that you can always talk to me, right?"

Hermione's anger dissipated just as quickly as Harry's had, and her pale face immediately softened.

"Oh, of course I do, Harry," she replied with such sincerity that it nearly tore Harry in half. And then she gave him a small smile - clearly bemused about something bounding around inside her head. "You know, Harry, there are times when I don't think you know me at all. And others," she chuckled, as she made eye contact and her smile grew gloriously, "...where I'm convinced you know me better than I know myself."

Harry returned the gesture and said with a chuckle, "Well, I_ have_ known you since you were eleven. You've got to give me some credit."

Hermione nodded, still smiling, "Consider it done."

They stood in silence for a moment, listening to the stale water from the drain pipes patter irregularly around them. A muddied rat scurried through some stagnant water and made it's way behind an overflowing dumpster, causing Hermione to instantly recoil. Whenever she saw a rat, she couldn't help but associate the horrid beast with Peter Pettigrew - the man who betrayed Harry's parents.

"Hermione," Harry said, interrupting her thoughts, "I know that something is bothering you."

Whether the act was subconscious or something habitual, Hermione brought her right index finger to her face and studied it closely.

"Did you hurt your finger?" Harry asked, while he squinted to see if there was any damage on the pad of her fingertip, "Every time I've seen you this past week you've been holding it."

Hermione immediately dropped her hand to her side, cheeks flushing slightly, and then locked eyes with Harry. "I'm sorry, Harry. I really am fine...I'm just...oh, I don't know!" She said exasperatedly, while throwing her hands wildly in the air, "It's a lot of things, really. It's difficult to pinpoint it to one particular - "

"Are you nervous about teaching with Snape?" Harry asked, cutting her off.

Hermione abruptly lowered her hands and looked at Harry quizzically.

_Am I really that transparent?_

Though, there was _so_ much more to it than that.

"A little," she quietly replied.

Harry nodded and kicked a loose rock into the puddle of water where the dirty rat was drinking happily. The moment the water splashed onto his greasy fur, he squeaked indignantly at Harry and quickly scurried off.

"He won't hurt you," Harry said, watching the water ripple.

Hermione looked at him with surprise, at first assuming he was speaking of the rat, but then thinking better of it. "I know that, Harry."

"Then why is it bothering you so much?"

Now _that_ was an extremely good question.

Why was it bothering her? Really, she hardly even knew the man. So why should she care? The two of them had barely spoken at all except for the insulting comments he had made at her expense during class. But then, in the dark alleyway, like a sudden and brilliant epiphany, Hermione knew. Severus Snape was a man that was not only extremely unpleasant, but rude, curt, and had higher standards than any teacher she had ever dreamed of. _But oh_, _Merlin,_ she thought with a sudden flurry in her heart,_ how the man had_ _loved. _

_Love._

There was that infernal word again. Would she ever be able to escape it? Snape had risked everything, defied everything, and braved everything - all for the cause of a woman he loved. A woman, who would never return those affections. It was beautifully romantic, of course, but Hermione had a difficult time wrapping her mind around the image of Severus Snape in love. If there was ever a man that she had to picture as a hopeless romantic that was desperately in love, he would be the last person on earth she would have chosen.

It was as though every image she had of him was completely ripped out from underneath her, leaving her completely and utterly dumbfounded. Everything she knew to be true about his life was a facade - the literal tip of the iceberg.

And then, to make matters more confusing, the man had just made a miraculous return from the dead.

_Merlin, I need a holiday._

"Harry," Hermione said quietly, holding his steady gaze, "I honestly don't know."

"I doubt you'll even see him much," Harry offered as he looked back to the crowded street, "What with him teaching Defense, and you teaching Charms, you'll probably only cross paths at staff meetings and during meals."

"Yeah," Hermione supplied, suddenly wondering how much she would see of the newly appointed Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. And then a stray thought crossed her mind and she smiled to herself.

"What?" Harry asked, his dark eyebrows arching high over the rim of his glasses.

"McGonagall approved two new Charms texts for the N.E.W.T. students this term and they're absolutely _brilliant_, Harry. I can't wait to instigate their methods. One is completely full of new theories, rules, and even goes so far as to implement a form of Muggle mathematics and it - "

"What?" She demanded, as Harry started laughing, cutting herself off.

"Nothing," Harry replied, raising his hands in self defense, "It's just...it's good to have the old Hermione back. I've been wondering where she's been these last few weeks."

Hermione gave him a rough shove and made to walk back toward the crowded street. "Just where did you say the Apparation point was, Harry?"

"Two alleys over, I think," he answered as he dug around in his robes for some sweets he had taken from the Weasley's. "Is Kobic already at Hogwarts?"

Hermione turned around to see why Harry had not followed her, and then watched him happily pop a lemon drop into his mouth.

"Yes," she answered as she regarded him fondly, "I sent him this morning with all my other things."

Kobic was the striking black owl, the precise color of soot, that Harry and Ginny had given Hermione for her birthday the previous year. Harry had insisted for Hermione's first year of teaching at Hogwarts that she had her own owl so that they could more readily keep in touch. Slightly reluctant, Hermione wasn't sure how her ancient cat, Crookshanks, would take to the bird, but she soon discovered that Crooks was too old and arthritic to care about chasing owls, and also, that Hermione quite liked the feathery creature, herself.

"Right, well when you send your first letter I'll let you know if there is any Auror news to report."

Hermione smiled, "And I've often wondered just _what_ it is that you do all day, Harry. With all the dark witches and wizards in hiding from after the war - you sit around and play exploding snap with William Buckley?"

Harry chuckled loudly, clearly bemused at the prospect of playing exploding snap with the old Auror. "Honestly, Hermione, is that what you really think? For the past six months I've been out in the field trying to find out where in the hell the Malfoys got off to."

"The Malfoys?" Hermione echoed, her face resigning to a deep frown. "What do they have to do with anything? I thought they made amends."

Harry nodded, "They did. But the Auror Department wasn't about to let any Death Eaters, past or present, out of their sight - no matter how honorable their intentions. And the Malfoys have always stirred up trouble in the past, so Buckley issued an order for two Aurors to be stationed around Malfoy Manor at all times, just as a precaution."

Hermione's eyes stirred with confusion, "Why didn't you ever mention this?"

Harry shrugged indifferently, "I couldn't. It was confidential. But now that you're an Auror, we can talk about it all day until you're blue in the face, if you'd like."

Hermione ignored the jab, "They disappeared six months ago?"

Harry nodded, "Just over that. No one knows where they went, and they haven't appeared anywhere in London as far as I can tell. Something just feels off about the whole thing. I don't like it."

"What about the Aurors that were on duty the day they disappeared?" Hermione asked, "Didn't they see something?"

"Bosch and Welch. Neither said they saw anything out of the ordinary...and suddenly, just like that," Harry said, snapping his fingers, "...the Malfoys were gone without a trace."

Hermione's brow was furrowed in thought, "But Draco...I mean, I know that back in school he was a complete prat and made our lives miserable, but he wasn't able to kill Dumbledore...do you really think that he could be up to something dark?"

Harry shrugged, "Who knows? Lucius always had a more sinister nature, so it's definitely a concern. Why would a reformed family just disappear out of nowhere? And I wouldn't give Draco anymore credit than he deserves; he's just as capable as his father."

Hermione nodded as she absentmindedly began biting a fingernail.

"Come on, Hermione. You're going to be late for your meeting with McGonagall. If anything comes up with the Malfoys, I'll send Kobic back with any news. Now, if _that's_ not incentive for you to write, then I'm not sure what is," Harry said with a small smile.

Hermione looked up and rolled her eyes. "Right, I'm off, then. Let's go."

They silently made their way to a similar alleyway, two blocks over, just has Harry predicted. Hermione smiled softly as she tightly embraced her best friend. "Be safe, Harry," she said quietly, her thoughts still lingering on the Malfoys.

Harry nodded against her and closed his eyes, "You too, Hermione. Write often, okay? Kobic needs the exercise. Trust me, Hedwig would nip at me for weeks if I didn't let her out."

Hermione chuckled, "It's not Ron that you're talking with, Harry. Of course I'll write."

"Good."

They embraced for a moment longer until Hermione finally pulled away and looked at her friend, fondly. Something tugged at her heart as she watched him standing there, and for a moment she saw the eleven-year-old boy nervously shuffling his feet at the Hogwart's Express. It was gone in a flicker, though, and Harry was smiling warmly at her.

"Take care, Harry."

He smiled, "You too, Hermione."

And then she Disapparated.

* * *

Hermione scaled the steps to the stone gargoyle as quickly as she could without losing any dignity to stop and catch a breath. It still felt odd for her to be at Hogwarts as a teacher and not a student. It was irrelevant, though, she decided when she finally clambered over the top step. Hogwarts was a source of comfort and familiarity, a solid cornerstone she could always rely upon. Sadly, the entire castle had undergone an extreme renovation after the final battle, though Hermione had a difficult time distinguishing what was the original castle, and what was new. 

She hurried forward with a brisk pace toward the gargoyle, skillfully handling several rolls of parchment, ink, and a surprising number of heavy texts. She was about to speak the password (_Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus!)_, when a shout of greeting startled her.

"Oi! Hermione! How's it going? Good holiday?"

Hermione turned around to see the handsome face of Oliver Wood greeting her.

"Oh, hi Oliver," she replied with as much enthusiasm as she could muster, "Good to see you."

He smiled brightly, "Likewise. Here, I'll get it. _Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus!_" he spoke clearly for the gargoyle.

With a great tremble, the stone beast sprang to life and rotated to admit passage to the spiral staircase that led to the office of the Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall.

"You'll never guess what I did for the holiday," Oliver said with a smirk, leaning casually against the staircase as it began to ascend.

Hermione felt, quite adamantly, in fact, that she had a _very_ good idea of what Oliver had done over the break, but instead politely responded, "Oh, and what was that, Oliver?"

"Traveled all over Europe watching the greatest Quidditch teams," he said with a beaming smile. "Puddlemere United has _nothing _on some of the moves of these Quidditch teams. There's this new seeker who's come out of _nowhere, _from the States, I think, who is simply _incredible_. Imagine a seeker with the skill and the speed to not only attempt a - "

Oliver continued cheerfully on as they neared the Headmistress's office and Hermione feigned interest where it was due, nodded in the appropriate places, and occasionally remarked with an exclamation of, '_brilliant_', or '_my, that does sound interesting_', or her trademark and current favorite, '_yes, that would be magnificent to see_'.

They reached McGonagall's office at last, much to Hermione's relief, and Oliver concluded his happy tale with, "And I'm going to be implementing several new tactics this year with all of the House captains, though I think I'll spend a little more time with Gryffindor - "

"Welcome, Hermione, Oliver," Minerva McGonagall said warmly, cutting Oliver off and ushering the two former Gryffindors to her office. "Hermione, dear, do you need some help with your things? Oh, Oliver, just take a seat over by Poppy and we'll get started as soon as we're all settled."

"Oh, no, I've got it, Minerva. Thank you, though," Hermione replied politely as she made her way to the round table that McGonagall transfigured for each staff meeting. Her eyes nervously darted around the table until they finally rested upon _him_. Severus Snape, clad in his usual black, eyed her indifferently, wearing the same phlegmatic expression that seemed to always adorn his face, until he turned his attention to McGonagall.

"All right, then," Minerva said loudly, as Hermione shuffled to her seat, clumsily depositing her handful of treasures on the table, "Let us begin."

The start of term staff meeting went just as it had the previous year, though every eye flickered in Snape's direction whenever his attention was diverted elsewhere. Snape spoke very little, and usually only when McGonagall, herself, addressed him. But every comment he made was as terse and blunt as Hermione remembered him to be back when she was his student.

"Won't we need to assign rounds?" Oliver asked, several minutes into the meeting, while leaning casually back in his chair.

"Obviously," Snape snapped, his dark eyes flashing.

Oliver immediately lowered the chair back on all fours and looked around somewhat helplessly. Though Snape had been arguably unpleasant to everyone in the room, he had been particularly nasty towards Oliver from the moment he walked in with Hermione.

Snape had been short to Hermione as well, though there was far less venom in his voice than how he addressed the other staff members. The exception, perhaps, being McGonagall. And for the life of her, Hermione couldn't put her finger on it. She had done him no special favors. If anything, he was the one that had done something for _her_ at Grimmauld Place.

Perhaps he had been expecting the boisterous, anxious, and slightly annoying girl he had always known, but when the passive, mature, woman addressed the staff; it was something he hadn't quite anticipated.

Or, perhaps not.

Hermione found herself stealing fleeting glances at the callous man who was two chairs over, though to her complete embarrassment, he caught her watching him, _twice_.

_Oh, Merlin, please don't let him use Legilimency on me._

To her surprise and utter bewilderment, he had nearly cracked a smile on both occasions.

_Nearly._

McGonagall, stern and proper as she had always been, dutifully concluded the staff meeting on time. "It really is quite wonderful and assuring to have such a competent group of witches and wizards to work with," she concluded with a genuine smile. "Now, I hope you enjoy yourselves this last week before term begins. I daresay, it might be the only peace and quiet you'll receive until the Christmas holidays."

Hermione smiled. McGonagall always knew exactly how to put things.

Hermione quickly gathered her things together, carefully stacking her new texts. She was tiding her scrupulous notes in an orderly fashion when Oliver came over to her, smiling brightly.

Across the room, Snape's dark eyes narrowed.

"Hey, Hermione," he greeted cheerfully, "I was just about to go out to the Quidditch pitch for a quick practice. Care to join me? You can try out my new broom - it's completely brilliant."

Hermione looked up at Oliver, slightly exasperated. She had lost count of how many times she had told him that she didn't like flying. Either it wasn't much of a concern for him, or he really didn't care. Either way, it annoyed her.

"Oliver," she said patiently as she scooped up her things, the rest of the staff exiting the room, "I'm just really not much into flying. But it's a gorgeous day, don't let me hold you back."

Oliver frowned as they headed back towards the stairs, passing Snape's lingering form. "You're sure you don't want to go for a ride?"

Hermione nodded emphatically. "Quite sure."

Disappointment etched over his face, Oliver resigned for the time being. "Well, I'd really like you to come see this new move I learned over the summer. Maybe tomorrow then?"

Hermione struggled for an excuse. Always honest as a child, she was never good with lying on the spot, or in general for that matter, so she resigned with a defeated, "Maybe."

Oliver gave her a lop-sided grin that was worthy of Ron and he quickly stepped through the threshold that led to the spiral staircase with Slughorn and Poppy. She was about to join them when she realized she hadn't grabbed her favorite pheasant-feather quill. When she glanced over her shoulder, she saw it was still lying on the Headmistress's table.

"I'll see you later, Oliver. I've left something. Have a good practice," Hermione called down to him as she walked briskly past Snape's imposing form and toward the table.

Heaving her heavy stash back with one arm, Hermione sheathed her quill and struggled to find an appropriate place for it in the pile. As she shifted the weight to her right, a dark shadow slowly fell over her.

"I would have thought your formative years at school would have trained you sufficiently for carrying around excessive materials, _Professor _Granger," Snape said snidely, a pronounced emphasis on her title. "I must admit I find myself surprised that you do not have your normal entourage waiting to assist you."

Hermione looked up, clearly startled to find herself staring directly into the black robes of Severus Snape. And somehow, she realized, as her eyes darted around the circular room, they were the only two remaining in the Headmistress's office. Her eyes returned to his and she bravely held his gaze for as long as she dared.

She _longed_ to ask him something of his true past. Like an irritable itch that she couldn't quite repress, the desire to speak with him plainly was nearly overwhelming. His relationship with Dumbledore, the dangers he faced as a spy, the mind of a Death Eater - Hermione couldn't even begin to imagine what delicious truths she could uncover by a simple conversation.

But it was immensely private, and she knew it. How uncomfortable it would be to have your heart laid bare and naked before the world to see - unable to hide in it's confines, to relish in it's solitude? Hermione could only imagine what agony she would feel around such people if they knew the intricacies and delicate feelings of her own heart.

There would be nothing to retreat to.

No, Hermione decided, firmly. She would not be that person. She would respect his privacy and solitude and never ask him the question that he feared most. And even if she was that uncouth and decided to ask him, what would make her think that he would actually open up to her anyway?

_Am I really that presumptuous?_

_A former student with which he never shared anything personal in the past?_

Hermione's focus returned to his eyes. She noted, irrelevantly, that he hadn't blinked once in the entire time that she stood there, staring at him in what he would surely perceive as stupidity.

Immediately, her gaze dropped, and Hermione wondered with a sudden fear if he had read her mind in that moment. She couldn't even remember the comment he had just made to her mere moments before - something about not being able to carry her things? It was rude, she was sure, as it was obviously intended to be. But, Hermione cared nothing more in that moment than to get away from his piercing gaze before he could gauge any more of what her mind was pondering in regards to him and the tender delicacies of his heart.

"I'm sorry, Professor Snape," Hermione stammered as she shifted her bounty in her arms that were quickly becoming numb, "I really should be going."

She started to walk away at a brisk pace when she felt a gentle tug on her arm that caused her to come to an immediate halt.

Half afraid, half intrigued, Hermione turned and looked up at Snape's calculating face. His black eyes - no - _brown_, Hermione discovered with their close proximities, were searching her face with diligence.

"Don't," Hermione whispered.

Snape raised an eyebrow, "Don't what?"

"Read my mind."

And there was a shift in his eyes. Something stirred without breaking, and he appeared taken aback. He may as well have been an entirely different person from the man that had made the snide remark to her.

"I would never invade anyone's mind unless I had to, Professor Granger," he said in a deep voice.

Hermione's sorrel eyes regarded him with confusion, "Then...then what were you trying to do?"

Snape seemed reluctant to answer. Afraid to give too much of himself away? Afraid of what her response would be?

And then the change was instantaneous. He suddenly remembered himself and his brow furrowed, deeply. "That is none of your concern," he replied tersely.

Hermione's countenance must have shown hurt, surprise, and disappointment, because his eyes betrayed him in that moment.

Arms weighing heavy with her awkward load, Hermione adjusted her things and walked to the spiral stairs.

"Good day, Professor Snape," she said, slightly wounded.

The stairs descended loudly as Severus Snape stood in silence, continuing to observe the empty space Hermione had only just occupied. His face was set, his brow furrowed. He slowly reached his hand toward his face and pinched the bridge of his nose as he closed his eyes.

"Merlin," he whispered to himself, "What am I doing?"

Behind him, the portrait of Albus Dumbledore, who had been feigning sleep for the past hour and a half, slightly stirred.

* * *

_A/N: I honestly don't know how I got this chapter out so quickly. You should all be quite pleased with me. :) As always, please feel free to leave your thoughts and review. They are a huge motivator - I truly can't express it enough. Thanks for all the lovely reviews so far! _


	4. Chapter 4

_"There is nothing heavier than compassion. Not even one's own pain weighs so heavy as the pain one feels for someone, for someone, pain intensified by the imagination and prolonged by a hundred echoes."_

- Milan Kundera

* * *

**Chapter 4: The Encounter**

* * *

The first month of term went by in a whirlwind. 

Hermione fell into the rigorous teaching schedule with relative ease, though she scarcely had time for anything else. Eating fell to the bottom of the priority list, and she had to remind herself that she wouldn't be doing the students any favors if she died of starvation. She found herself especially surprised one windy September morning when Kobic arrived with a letter and parcel from Harry, wishing her a happy birthday.

The parcel contained a stunning silver necklace that Hermione was quite confident Ginny had a hand in choosing. Harry, despite his tender heart, was never blessed with the talent of picking appropriate gifts - though Hermione did have a good laugh when he had once given her a book entitled, _Why Muggleborns Have More Fun._

Hermione blinked as she looked at the glimmering necklace. If it hadn't been for Harry's present and letter, she was confident that her birthday would have come and gone without much notice.

_Where does the time go?_

With all the stress and worry of implementing her new texts into her curriculum, Hermione had hardly given Severus Snape a second thought since their awkward encounter a month before. When she did see him at meals (and it was certainly a rare occasion, since Hermione usually ran in last minute to grab something before the House Elves cleaned up), he pointedly ignored her or left the Great Hall in a hurry, black robes billowing ominously behind him.

Hermione sat quietly in her private quarters near Gryffindor Tower and allowed her mind to momentarily wander as she fingered the new trinket. What if Snape _had _read her mind that day? She had honored and respected his privacy and didn't ask the question that had pressed against her heart day in and day out. But what if he had read her thoughts and was now too embarrassed to look at her - let alone carry on a conversation? Then again, she realized as she watched the sunlight reflect brilliantly off the necklace, she could probably count on one hand the number of conversations they had ever had.

Perhaps that part was irrelevant.

Hermione carefully put her necklace back in it's pristine box and furrowed her brow slightly. Snape, despite his flaws, had been completely sincere when he had spoken to her in McGonagall's office. His dark eyes bored into her own with a sincerity and intensity that had made her forget to breathe.

But he never invaded her mind.

He couldn't have.

Someone with a heart that had been subjected to study and ridicule would not inflict that same pain and exposure on another soul. And despite however unpleasant he was, he had proven to have an inconceivable capacity for goodness within him.

Hermione frowned as she looked out the high arched Gothic window adjacent to her desk. Would she ever be able to truly reach him? She longed to break down the stone barriers that had become his constant companion - if only to speak plainly with him for one moment. But his heart was battered and fragile, and Hermione wasn't sure if he would ever let anyone see that tenderness.

Sighing loudly, Hermione picked up her quill and began writing slowly in her flawless penmanship. The quill scratched noticeably in the silence of the room, and Kobic hooted impatiently.

_Harry,_

_Thank you so much for the birthday gift. It's incredibly beautiful. I have the distinct impression that Ginny was helpful in that particular selection, so please tell her I think it's gorgeous. Things are wonderful here. Busy beyond all reason, but wonderful. I think Hagrid may think I'm cross with him about something - I haven't been down to his hut since the start of term. There's a newborn unicorn he wants me to come see, so I'm going to try to make it down there this weekend. Anything is better than Blast Ended Skrewts, so I'm quite happy to oblige. Any news with the Malfoys? And before you get upset that I mentioned their name in this letter, I've charmed it so that only your eyes will be able to read it - so relax. Nifty, ehe? It's a rather complex charm, but wonderfully useful. Hope all is well. How are the wedding plans going?_

_Love always,_

_Hermione_

Hermione carefully folded the parchment, marking the creases with the utmost precision, and walked over to Kobic who was happily perching himself on the top of her favorite chair.

"I've told you not to sit on that chair," Hermione admonished; but she patted his head and gave him a small treat anyway. "Tell Harry hello for me. As soon as you feel up for the journey, hurry back with his response."

Kobic hooted cheerfully and gave Hermione a playful nip on her finger as she tied the letter around his talon. Hopping obediently on her forearm, Hermione walked to the arched Gothic window and unbolted the latch.

"See you soon," she said kindly, as a cool breeze blew in and ruffled his feathers.

Kobic flew off into the distance and Hermione watched his dark form for a long time until he was nothing more than a black speck on the bright horizon. As she stood there, the cool fall breeze tangling her untamed hair, her thoughts turned, once again, to Severus Snape.

* * *

Hermione stood at the front of her 5th year Gryffindor/Slytherin Charms class, browsing the index of _Spellman's Syllabary_ while her hair tumbled free of a once tight knot. Her finger gently traced over the page as she murmured quietly to herself, scanning for the precise entry she was searching for. After a moment, she shook her head and looked up at a young Slythern boy. 

"Nope," she informed him apologetically, as she tucked a stay strand of hair behind her ear, "Not in _Spellman's_. I think what you're looking for in regards to _Secrets of the Darkest Arts_ might better be handled with Professor Snape, Mr. Knight. He's certainly more of an expert in that area that I claim to be. I'm quite confident that as your Head of House he would be more than happy to assist you with any further questions."

Connor Knight looked up at Hermione with an unreadable expression. While things had changed somewhat in regards to Gryffindor and Slytherin rivalries since the War, animosity was still not uncommon. Hermione, as of yet, hadn't had too many altogether unpleasant experiences with the Shytherins in her classes, so she considered that as a good sign.

After a moment of silence, he nodded. "I'll be sure to ask him."

"Good," Hermione replied with a smile as she set the book on her desk. "Class dismissed. Please remember to read chapters five and six in _A Compendium of Common Curses and their Counter-Actions_, as well as chapter four in _Self-Defensive Spellwork_. We'll be going over those spells on Monday," she warned as the class began to pack up their things. "Have a nice weekend!"

The sound of chairs shuffling over the stone floor and exciting shouts from students permeated the classroom. Hermione was returning to her desk when someone called to her.

"Wait! Professor Granger! When do we get to learn about the Patronus Charm?"

Hermione looked up to see Sarah Owens, a shy but intelligent Gryffindor, looking at her expectantly. Again, Hermione forced a stray hair behind her ear. "The Patronus is a N.E.W.T. level charm. Generally, the theory is only applied - "

"But I heard that Harry Potter could do it his third year."

The room went quiet. Anytime there was a mention of the famous Harry Potter, known best friend to Professor Granger, all mouths closed in revered silence.

"Yes," Hermione said quietly, "Yes, that's true. He could."

"Can't you teach us, then?" Sarah pressed, "We're already two years past that."

The class, who had previously been shuffling out with eager anticipation for the weekend seemed to be crowding closer to Hermione's desk.

"I'm really not sure it's best with your O.W.L.'s to focus on - "

"Please, professor?" Quinton Ganner, a popular Slytherin asked.

Hermione looked at the crowd around her desk and chuckled softly to herself. "If you _all_ can answer every question on Monday regarding the assigned chapters, we'll talk," she relented.

"Thanks, Professor Granger!"

"Yeah, that's brilliant!"

Hermione smiled and stood, slinging her pack over her right should, "I said that _we'll talk_. Good luck with your chapters, everyone. Oh, and Mr. Parkes? Throw that garbage away and save yourself the trouble," she said sternly as she gestured to a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ he had tucked under his arm with a surly picture of Severus Snape adorning the front cover.

"Yes, professor."

Hermione nodded her approval and then headed out behind the rest of the class. She hurried through the castle at a brisk pace, passing and greeting several students, until she reached the front entrance and strode out into the blustery afternoon. As she crossed the grounds, her traveling cloak whipping around in a fury, a pair of dark eyes narrowed from the entryway.

Autumn was definitely on the horizon. The deep and diverse shades of green were now changing to brilliant reds, golds, and yellows - creating a palette of color across the grounds leading to the Forbidden Forest. Hermione didn't even have to knock on Hagrid's Hut before he came bounding out with Fang, completely delighted to see her.

"Ello 'Ermione! I knew ye would come! Just knew it! Ole Fang is right happy to see yeh as well!" Hagrid happily shouted as he stormed down the steps and roughly patted Hermione on the back. "I know ye've been busy, but I want yeh come see the little unicorn! They usually take to maidens, see?"

"Maidens?" Hermione echoed with a chuckle, as she scratched Fang behind the ears and followed Hagrid toward the Forest, "Since when have I ever been considered a maiden, Hagrid?"

Hagrid laughed, completely delighted with himself as he led the way to the Forbidden Forest. A strong breeze hitched up and Hermione pulled her traveling cloak closer around her body, stifling a shudder. The moment the chill passed down the length of her spine, Hermione felt a sharp stab of pain rack through her back and she inhaled sharply.

_Oh, Merlin. _

_Please...anything but this._

The after-effects of the Cruciatus Curse were something completely foreign to most Healers. For one, and certainly quite thankfully, there weren't too many witches or wizards that had the unfortunate pleasure of undergoing something so traumatic. And secondly, relapses were virtually unheard of. Of course, the length of duration and the skill of the caster greatly influenced the occasion - but to this day, no single healer had been able to tell Hermione why she had periodic relapses.

"How long were you under the curse?" One Healer had asked Hermione.

Well, that was an idiotic question.

It had seemed like an eternity to Hermione - two life times, perhaps. There was no way she could gauge the precise time, though Harry had later told her that he thought it had fallen somewhere easily over an hour.

"An hour?" The same Healer had echoed in surprise. "Well, it's no wonder that you suffer with these painful tremors! It's nearly unheard of! Poor dear!"

The Healers speculated that it could be triggered by anything such as stress, cold, strain, and lack of sleep. Regardless, their vague explanations and conjectures didn't help Hermione in the slightest. All that she knew was that it had been well over a year since it had last acted up with her.

_So, why now?_

Stess? Well, she could certainly check the box off on that one. Cold? The season was just changing...and lack of sleep? It was possible that she got around four hours last night..._  
_

It wasn't as nearly as bad as the real thing, of course. Just small spams, really, that seemed to relentlessly rock her body in periodic intervals like the tide rolling onto a beach. Hermione offered a silent prayed that she would make it back to the castle before they became noticeably painful.

"Yeh coming, Hermione?" Hagrid asked from several paces ahead. Fang, who seemed to sense a little of Hermione's distress, remained loyally by her side as she slowly made her way to the young trees that lined the Forest's entrance.

"Yes, Hagrid!" Hermione called, as she suppressed a wince, "Right behind you!"

Hermione pressed forward for several moments longer, slightly stiff with tentative steps, until she nearly ran into Hagrid's backside.

"Oops," Hermione lamented, "Sorry about that, Hagrid."

"Not to worry, 'Ermione!" Hargid said cheerfully. He walked two giant paces ahead and lifted up what appeared to be a small thicket of branches. Hermione squinted to see into the shadowed area as she clutched her side, until she saw a stirring of movement, and two large black eyes blinked at her in confusion.

"Ain't he beautiful?" Hagrid asked, positively beaming at the tiny unicorn. "I've named 'im Thor. He looked like a Thor to me!"

"Thor?" Hermione chucked, and then wished that she hadn't. Grabbing her side once more, she looked at the majestic creature with awe and wonder. Thor really was a horrid name, but it seemed to suit Hagrid perfectly with his past choice of names and animals. Hermione reasoned that the name would grow on the young foal in time.

"Well, I just wanter yeh two to meet, see? Aw, he likes yer, 'Ermione! Look!"

The young foal had gotten to his feet and was cautiously stepping towards Hermione with legs that appeared too long for his small body. The center of his forehead had a small bump which would one day sprout a gleaming horn. Slowly, Hermione stretched her free hand forward until the tiny foal's tiny muzzle was sniffing at her quite happily.

"I told yeh! Always take to maidens, unicorns do. Always!" Hagrid said as he watched the scene like a proud father.

"He really is beautiful, Hagrid," Hermione agreed as she stood straight and suppressed another wince. The spasms were increasing in intensity. "I'd very much like to come visit again soon. Would you mind terribly, though, Hagrid..." she trailed off, looking uncertainly at her friend. "I'm suddenly feeling a little under the weather. I'd be happy to come down next weekend and look after him - "

Hagrid's massive eyebrows rose in surprise, "What's the matter, 'Ermione? Everything okay?"

Hermione nodded, "Yes, I think I just need to go lie down for a bit. I'll be fine. Not to worry, Hagrid."

Hagrid nodded. "Let's get yeh back, then. Best to get yeh off yer feet."

Hermione followed Hagrid back the way they had come, though at a much slower pace. The burning spasms were coming at more frequent intervals and seemed to jab sharper and deeper with each one. Irrelevantly, Hermione wondered if that was what labor was like.

_Merlin help me if I ever go there._

They reached Hagrid's Hut at length and Hermione immediately directed herself towards the castle.

"Yeh sure you don't need to just kip here?" Hagrid asked with mild disappointment while Fang bounded around him wildly.

"No, thanks, Hagrid. I think I'll be better off in my own quarters. Thank you, though. I really am sorry. I promise to come visit as soon as I can," Hermione lamented as she felt a tight stitch creep down her back.

They said their goodbyes and Hermione slowly and laboriously made her way back up the steep incline to the castle. It seemed like an eternity, though she reasoned it couldn't have been more than fifteen minutes. Still, Hermione felt as though she had just climbed Everest. Finally she reached a lone tree and gratefully leaned against it to catch her breath.

Each breath felt sharp, painful, and somehow traitorous. It wasn't supposed to hurt to breathe. This was all wrong. Witches and wizards never suffered relapses, so what was her problem? Hermione shut her eyes quickly as another painful spasm racked her side while the wind tugged playfully at her hair. And there, with her eyes closed, as she clutched her side furiously, a shadow blocked the weak autumn sunlight. Before she even had time to open her eyes, a voice spoke to her.

"What is wrong?"

The voice itself was shocking, true enough, each word enunciated with precise clarity, but even more shocking still was that Hermione instantly recognized the owner of the deep, silky baritone, and her eyes flew open with a sudden panic.

Severus Snape, dark, tall, and foreboding, loomed directly above her wearing an expression that Hermione wasn't quite sure what to make of. His brow was furrowed, his mouth set into a thin line, but his eyes were dancing wildly with a strange fury she couldn't comprehend. Swallowing thickly, Hermione's eyes wavered for a slight moment as she took a small step back, bumping her back into the brittle trunk of the tree.

_Of all the people to see me like this!_

_After everything he's gone through - the tortures and beatings that he surely endured for years...no doubt he'll see me as weak.  
_

_But I'm not weak..._

"What is wrong?" He asked again, taking a small step forward. This time, his voice was nearly a whisper.

"I...," she stammered, looking anywhere but his eyes, "I...nothing."

Snape sneered. "Lying was never one of your fortes, Professor Granger. Now I'll ask again, and if you insist on commencing with this little charade of yours, you will only appear the more foolish. Tell me, what is the matter?"

His tone was biting, though it didn't have the sting she seemed to recall so well.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione met his gaze and held it. After a few moments of silence, she whispered, "The Cruciatus."

He didn't look surprised, as though he suspected it all along but needed to hear it from her own mouth. His brow furrowed even deeper, if that were at all possible, and Hermione was slightly worried that he might reach for his wand and hex the nearest person in the vicinity. But Snape, of course, did nothing of the sort and stood quietly with his robes billowing furiously around him.

"Come with me."

Hermione raised an eyebrow.

_Go with him?_

Where? And to what purpose? Was it possible that while every Healer in Britain was flabbergasted by her symptoms, he had some kind of solution? Some sort of cure? She dared not to hope for such a miracle, but something stirred within her chest and she couldn't help but feel the faintest breath of hope whisper to her.

She took a step forward and stumbled. And with a quickness that she would have never expected, Snape reached forward and grabbed her wrist, steading her. Embarrassed, Hermione refused to meet his eyes until suddenly, strangely, his free hand was on her waist, guiding her the rest of the way to the castle.

Hermione tried not to think of his hand on her side as they made their way to the main entrance. It was a valiant attempt, but a losing battle in the long run, and her mind suddenly could not be parted from the sensation of his hand upon her. It was a firm, but gentle grasp. His fingertips were precise in their placement and did not once waver or flinch.

Once they entered the castle, Hermione made to step toward the staircase that led to the hospital wing, but Snape gently tugged her back to his side and led her towards the spiral stairs that descended deep into the bowels of Hogwarts. As they walked, he was silent and purposeful - his steps slow enough for Hermione to keep up at a comfortable pace. She once or twice attempted a glance at him, but he pointedly ignored her. And not once did he look down to meet her gaze until she shuddered and paused mid-stride as a particularly power spasm forced it's way down the length of her spine.

She doubled over, closed her eyes fiercely, and hissed.

He immediately came to a halt. With great precision, his other arm went around her side so that they stood in an awkward embrace. Hermione did not open her eyes, but she knew his head was bent to her level when she felt his breath on her face. After a moment, she could feel his hair brush gently against her cheek.

"Look at me."

Hermione's eyes flew open in alarm. Seemingly innocent words to the ignorant, Hermione's pain-stricken eyes searched Snape's face with confusion. Those were the last words he had spoken to Harry at the final battle, and Hermione had later come to understand that in his dying breath, he wished no more than to look upon Harry's eyes, which were, in fact, his mother's.

The woman he had loved.

With confusion still etched across the expanse of her face, Snape whispered, "We are almost there. You can make it."

Hermione's thoughts were lingering on his previous comment, but she bravely met his gaze and nodded firmly. Snape returned the gesture, and with somewhat more urgency, he wrapped his arm around her midsection and half walked, half carried her through the dark corridor until they reached an etching on the south wall in relief form, depicting an image of the Four Founders. Adjusting Hermione's falling form on his right hip, Snape spoke clearly to the etching.

"_Anapneo._"

The relief gave way with a resounding _crack_ and Hermione stumbled across the threshold and into the private quarters of Severus Snape before she even realized what was happening. Snape led her forward a few paces and maneuvered around a particularly handsome coffee table before he gently deposited her onto an obliging sofa, laying her head carefully on the armrest.

He paused and regarded her quietly before he said, "Lie still. I'll be back."

Hermione thought it was a slightly absurd comment. She wasn't sure where he expected her to run off to, seeing as how she could barely stand. But as he disappeared into a shadowed doorway that led to another room, Hermione's eyes wandered curiously over the main area of Snape's quarters. Strangely, it wasn't anything like how she would have expected it to be.

Everything was impeccably clean. It wasn't dark or sinister, as some people might imagine, but warm and inviting. A blazing fire was roaring in the hearth adjacent to where she lay, and the opposite wall contained three sturdy bookshelves with an innumerable amount of contents filling every available inch of space. Hermione's eyes scanned longingly across the room and wondered at the possibilities and secrets they surely held.

Just then, another painful shudder inched through her body and she winced, closing her eyes. Distantly, through clenched teeth, she heard his footfalls approaching, quiet and brisk, from the other side of the room. A scraping noise resonated loudly, and Hermione opened her eyes to see Snape pulling a chair up to the sofa as he quickly sat down beside her. In his hand was a small vial.

"Drink this," he instructed, offering her the small token.

Hermione only hesitated slightly, then took the vial and struggled to prop herself up to drink the contents. As she leaned back, her arms shook beneath her. Snape stood immediately and lifted her head, his cool hand resting on the bare skin of her neck.

Involuntarily, Hermione shuddered.

She quickly downed the contents and softly smacked her lips together as he lowered her head to the armrest. The sweet aftertaste lingered on her tongue as Snape returned to his chair and regarded her quietly.

After several moments of silence, he asked with a tone more gentle than Hermione would have given him credit for, "Who did this to you?"

Hermione's brow creased and she shuddered, remembering the heavily lidded eyes that contained a frighteningly fanatical gleam. The hatred of her attacker had been so complete, so real - with no regard to the fact that Hermione was another human being, an actual living and breathing soul.

She swallowed and then met Snape's dark eyes. "Bellatrix LeStrange," she whispered.

Immediately, his face hardened. Whether due to his own immense disliking of the woman, or the fact that he, himself, had suffered at the hands of her madness, Hermione wasn't sure. But his eyes were distant, and it was a moment before he pressed, "When?"

Hermione slowly licked her lips, and to her surprise, Snape's gaze followed the movement of her tongue. She took a breath and replied, "Just before the final battle, when we were held hostage at Malfoy Manor."

His brow raised abruptly and his dark eyes searched her face in question. Evidently, he did not know the tale.

Hermione hesitated. Harry, Ron, and Ginny were the only ones that knew what had actually happened at Malfoy Manor - with the exception of the Death Eaters that had observed the scene. And Hermione always intended it to remain that way. It was something incredibly personal and traumatic, and she was still ashamed that she had cried out in such agony and pain. But as she looked up at Snape, leaving his phlegmatic expression behind and showing the faintest trace of emotion, Hermione felt prompted to say something.

She knew the deepest secret of his heart. Perhaps she could offer something in return.

"We had been captured," Hermione began, suddenly feeling quite tired, "...and Bellatrix had just discovered the Sword of Gryffindor." She blushed and looked at him, knowing full well that it was he who had guided them to the sword.

"She needed someone to interrogate," Hermione continued, her eyes taking on a distant and glazed look as she recalled the scene, "...and so of course it was the Mudblood."

"Do _not_ use that word!" Snape hissed, his eyes burning with fury. Hermione recoiled in fear for a moment before she realized she was being foolish. A man that had handled her with such careful and precise hands would not be capable of turning around and harming her some twenty minutes later. And so she found herself slightly confused at the outburst, until she remembered Harry informing her that Snape had once used that same term on his mother, and that things had never been the same between them afterward.

"Sorry...," she stammered, realizing her blunder. The term itself hardly bothered Hermione at all any longer. The epitaph had been thrown at her countless times from Malfoy and his gang while she had been at school, and she had become so desensitized to the word that she had nearly forgotten how foul and cruel it truly was.

Snape's dark gaze softened and he spoke in a quiet tone as he fingered his wand. "You should never refer to yourself as that."

Another small spasm made it's way through Hermione's body and she closed her eyes.

"I know."

He looked at her expectantly, urging her to continue. She remained still for several moments, mesmerized by his darkness of his gaze. "They took Harry and Ron down to the dungeon," Hermione offered, looking at her hands. "Ron always said that it was worse that way...not knowing what she was doing to me, but still being able to hear me scream..."

Snape's face was solemn, angry. When Hermione remained silent, he pressed tentatively, "For how long?"

Hermione's eyes began to fill heavy, and she stifled a yawn. "Over an hour... at least that's what Harry said," she back peddled. "I had absolutely no concept of time while it was happening."

Snape was staring at her intently when Hermione looked up and asked, "What was it that you gave me?"

"A sleeping drought," he replied at length.

"A sleeping drought?" Hermione echoed. "Why?"

Again, he resorted to fingering his wand before he replied, "If you're sleeping, you won't feel the spasms."

Hermione blinked. She wasn't sure why she hadn't thought of that obvious answer in the past when she had suffered from her relapses.

_Smartest witch of my age, indeed._

And suddenly, she couldn't fight it any longer and her eyes closed with gratitude. Snape sat there for a long moment, watching her, until the rise and fall of her chest became drawn out and evenly paced. He stood and returned the chair to it's rightful place before disappearing through a different doorway. When he returned, he carried with him a black fur blanket.

He paused as he stood over her, quietly observing her features. In sleep, they were different from anything he had previously seen or noticed. Her usual expression of curiosity or wonderment was gone and tranquility was all that remained. Remembering himself, he carefully unfolded the blanket and placed it over Hermione's still form.

As he turned to walk away, he whispered quietly, "Foolish, brave Gryffindor."

* * *

_A/N: Hey folks! As always, please take a moment to review and leave your thoughts. They are much appreciated. :) I've come across the idea of the "after-effects" of the Cruciatus Curse in several fics that I've perused. Although I'm not sure if there's any merit to it, I think it's an extremely intriguing concept - so I ran with it. Unfortunately, I can't claim it as my original idea. As a matter of information, my next update will probably not be for a couple of weeks. I will be in Florida for about a week, so my writing will obviously be quite time-restricted. (Well, that, and I'll be off getting a tan. :) ) Thanks for all the reviews thus far! _


	5. Chapter 5

_"Perhaps travel cannot prevent bigotry, but by demonstrating that all peoples cry, laugh, eat, worry, and die, it can introduce the idea that if we try and understand each other, we may even become friends."_

_- _Maya Angelou

* * *

**Chapter 5: The Potion**

* * *

When Hermione opened her eyes, she was extremely confused.

Instead of the high vaulted ceilings and the strong shafts of light that beamed through her Gothic windows every morning, there were lower ceilings, a burning hearth, and a distinctly different scent to the room. It was infinitely darker than what she was accustomed to during her mornings. As she shifted slightly, a soft object brushed against her cheek and she looked down to see a rather fine fur blanket thrown over her body. When it brushed beside her again, she inhaled deeply, and discovered the source of the scent.

It was different from anything she could recall, yet somehow, strangely, it seemed oddly familiar. She closed her eyes and breathed in once more and a scent of spice and pine filled her senses. The moment she identified the scent, her eyes flew open in alarm and she sat erect on the soft sofa.

She was still in the quarters of Severus Snape.

"I would advise you to not move so quickly. Of course, if you wish to suffer the same unpleasant outcome of what happened yesterday afternoon, you are more than welcome to move at whatever pace you desire."

Hermione whirled her head around to see Snape sitting quietly on the opposite side of the room at an elaborate Victorian desk, sipping away at some tea with a dark quill in his free hand. His voice was as silky and deep as she had always remembered it to be during her school years, and she vaguely wondered how Nagini's bite did not effect his vocal cords. Shrugging the thought away, she turned so she was facing him.

"What time is it?" She quietly asked.

"Not quite ten."

Hermione's eyes widened with surprise, "I've been asleep that long?"

Snape nodded a reply and then turned to grade an ink stained parchment in front of him.

Hermione's eyes lingered on his rigid form for a moment and then she turned and tested her muscles. They were still extremely sore and stiff, but as she flexed her back and stretched her arms forward, she discovered that the spasms had virtually vanished.

_Thank Merlin._

Placing her hands on either side of her legs, Hermione pushed herself halfway to her feet before she collapsed back against the sofa. Evidently, her legs had become so stiff that they were refusing to respond to her mind's simple request.

"Perhaps I was being unclear earlier," Snape said with an ounce of venom as he looked up from the parchment. "Unless you wish to crawl on your hands and knees back to Gryffindor Tower, you would do yourself a favor to remain still."

Hermione looked at him from her sitting position and began to retort but soon thought better of it. There was no point in arguing with him - especially when he was right. She wouldn't accomplish anything by being stubborn. Swallowing her pride, she looked to her hands while his gaze lingered on her. Shifting nervously, she thought back to the previous day.

Who would have thought that Snape could have been so gentle?

Every class that she could recall in recent memory was of a harsh, biting, and stern man. But gentle? Never that. She recalled the look in his intense eyes as she recounted the story of Malfoy Manor and the fury that visibly arose from within him and couldn't put a finger on it. His hands, strong and meticulous, had carefully supported her, using the utmost care and caution to not further her pain. And to top it all off, was the fact that he had personally dragged her into _his_ private quarters to look after her.

But why? And to what purpose? Hermione had a difficult time imagining him looking after anyone, let alone herself. She hardly knew anything at all about the man except that he was a walking dichotomy. When she looked up from her hands, his dark eyes were still looking over her intently, his quill hanging loosely in his writing hand. Hermione immediately lowered her gaze, trying to discern why she had such a struggle every time their eyes met.

As she fidgeted with the corner of the fur blanket, she could hear his chair move across the stone floor and then the confident foot falls of his stride as he made his way over to where she was sitting. She stared intently at the black boots beneath his robes when his feet stopped in front her. Only when he finally spoke did she look up to meet his face.

"How do you feel?"

Hermione hesitated, still finding it somewhat absurd that she was having this conversation with Severus Snape. "Fine. Stiff and sore, obviously, but infinitely better than yesterday."

Snape nodded but said nothing.

Feeling increasingly awkward, Hermione looked at her hands and said the first thing that came to her. "I...er...I wanted to thank you for yesterday...I mean, you really didn't have to, of course, but you did...and er...I guess that I just...," she trailed off, feeling more and more foolish by the second.

"Quite articulate, Professor Granger," Snape interrupted with a haughty air in his voice.

Hermione blanched with embarrassment and looked intently and her fingers, not knowing what to say. Snape, however, stepped in and saved her the trouble. "You are welcome."

The sincerity in his voice was genuine, and Hermione looked up to meet his eyes, smiling softly with gratitude. "As soon as I can stand, I'll leave. You've been very kind and I've imposed on you long enough - "

"Stay until you are fully recovered," Snape interrupted, walking to the ornate chair he had used the previous night. He lifted it easily and set it down in the exact same spot as before, the four crafted legs resting softly on an immaculate Persian rug. He, himself, then sat, and looked at her with fathomless eyes. "You would not call me so kind if I extricated you from the premises without having your full strength restored."

Hermione blinked, but said nothing.

"There is also another delicate matter I wish to discuss with you," Snape continued, and Hermione's forehead creased with confusion, her curiosity piking.

"Of course," she replied swiftly. "I am indebted to you for your assistance."

Snape's mouth resolved into a deep frown. Evidently, he did not welcome the idea of Hermione being indebted to him, or did not consider it as such. "Some years ago," he began, ignoring Hermione's comment and sitting perfectly still in his chair, "...I experimented with various potions that...distanced themselves from the common syllabus of what was accepted and practiced in the wizarding world." He paused and regarded Hermione quietly for a moment, "I am certain you are aware of something of the sort since Potter had my Potion's text during your sixth year."

Hermione nodded. "Yes. Of course, we never knew it was you until...," she paused, realizing that she was beginning to tread on shaky ground, "...until much later."

Snape's face was solemn and he said nothing for several moments. His gaze shifted from Hermione to some nondescript point in space until he finally remembered himself.

"Quite," he replied softly, and then cleared his throat. "My reason for bringing it to your attention was that for a brief time, I dabbled with a potion to counteract the after effects of the Cruciatus."

Hermione's brow shot high into her hairline. "You could do that?"

A faint trace of a smile, and then it was gone. "As I said, I _dabbled_ with the potion. I was quite content to continue with that research, but when I...became a spy for the Order, time was a luxury that I could not afford."

Hermione looked at Snape with quiet astonishment. He had never so much as asked her how her day was going, let alone offered anything remotely personal about himself. Yet, here he was sharing something of his past without Hermione even hinting that she was interested. It was something incredibly new and delicious and Hermione suddenly felt her heart pounding in her ears.

"But surely," she began, and then paused, unsure of how to best continue, "...surely with everything that you went through with the Death Eaters," she said, being careful of her word selection, "...I know you must have suffered the same thing that I have."

Snape was silent for a moment before replying quietly, "Yes."

Her breath hitched in her chest. "And you found no time to help yourself?"

A scowl appeared on his face and he spat icily, "Next time, Professor Granger, I'll be sure that it is the first thing on my agenda." And he stood to walk away from her.

"No. Wait, please," Hermione lamented as she grabbed a hold of his ebony cloak. It was an absurd thing to do, she realized once she had latched onto the warm fabric. Her small grasp on a layer of cloth as he turned away wouldn't be enough to deter him if he was genuinely upset with her. That, and the fact that she was too weak to physically make him stay. Of course, she realized as she back peddaled in her mind, it wasn't as if she could physically restrain him anyway - full strength or not.

But he stopped mid-stride, and turned to look down at her, a curious glint in his eye.

"I'm sorry...I didn't mean it that way. I...," she paused, took a deep breath and began again. "All I meant by it was that I regretted that you hadn't been able to make the potion before that time."

He looked down at her from his crooked nose for a long moment. Feeling foolish, Hermione released her hold on his cloak and looked down at her hands once more. Through the crackling of the fire, she heard him sit again on the chair.

"As did I," he said solemnly after a long space of silence.

She looked up and bravely met his gaze, his dark eyes searching her face for something Hermione wasn't quite sure of. At length he offered, "With only teaching now, I have much more time than I have been previously been accustomed to."

Hermione blinked as she stared at him in astonishment.

_Much more time?_

She barely had time to remember to eat. It was no wonder the man had been so thin and short tempered back when she was at school - he never had the time to eat or sleep, let alone experiment with potions that would potentially ease his pain each time he returned from the Death Eaters.

"If you wish," he continued uneasily, but still holding her gaze, "...I can attempt to come up with something to aid you in your...current circumstance."

Hermione stared at him in silence, her brain reeling with the implications of the statement. It was as though she had been walking through Hogwarts and suddenly, without warning, a new doorway materialized in front her that she had never before seen or noticed. A rush of infinite possibilities surrounded her, like a new dawn on the horizon.

Of course, Hermione recognized the undercurrent of the statement as well. Any experimentation with potions on a level as advanced as this generally required Ministry approval. Somehow, though, she had the feeling that Snape wouldn't do anything of the sort. And then, as she nervously bit her fingernail, another thought crossed her mind.

"Wouldn't you need the potion as well? Do you still...," she paused and bit her lip, "...still have relapses?"

Snape looked at her silently, his eyes as intense as ever, and replied, "No."

"Oh."

_Then what the hell is wrong with me?_

"I suspect," Snape said after a moment, noticing Hermione slump down further into the sofa, "...that what you endured was intended to effect you...on a more permanent level. The difference with myself was that the curses were meant to show authority, power, and rank. The Dark -," he paused, cleared his throat, and corrected himself, "..._Voldemort_ still needed his pawns in the end."

Hermione nodded and said nothing for a long moment. After a few deep breaths, she looked him in the eye and asked, "Do you think...I mean, from everything that you've seen and studied, that it will be something that will affect me the rest of my life?"

Snape regarded her quietly from his chair and then said, "I do not know."

An awkward silence surrounded them, and once again Hermione found herself fidgeting with the corner of the fur blanket that lay across her lap. Though her body remained perfectly still, Hermione's mind was racing. Snape had just offered to help her with something that was nearly, if not more than likely, impossible. And though Hermione felt awkward sitting across from him in such a close proximity, she felt strangely touched by the whole encounter.

She shifted on the sofa and then looked to meet his gaze, "Could you show me?" she asked. "I mean, could I help? I've always loved potions and haven't done much with the subject since I was in school."

Snape raised an eyebrow, "I did not know you were so passionate about the subject."

Hermione nodded emphatically, "From my first day in class when you gave your speech about putting a stopper in death. I've always found potions fascinating."

Snape looked down and began fingering his ebony wand in his fingers. The contrast of the lightness of his skin and the blackness of the wand was incredibly striking. Without looking up he said, "I will not be seeking Ministry approval to do this. I have had enough of the Ministry to last several lifetimes, I think."

"Of course," Hermione replied immediately, and then added with determination, "You have my word. I won't mention anything to a single soul."

Snape looked up and gave her his first, soft, smile. "You needn't worry that I doubt you. I have observed you since you were a child, Professor Granger. I trust you to be a woman of your word."

Hermione smiled widely at his comment. It was, to her recollection, the first real compliment he had ever given her. It seeped into her very bones and chilled her. And then her face suddenly resolved into a thin frown. "I just thought of something," she said by way of explanation when Snape raised an eyebrow. "I keep forgetting that you no longer teach Potions. Surely Horace will know something is going on if we use the Potion's Laboratory. I hadn't even considered that possibility."

Snape stood from his chair and made to return it to it's proper place. "I have my own laboratory here in my private quarters," he said as he gestured to a doorway on the left side of the room, "While it is not as large as Horace's, it will still serve our purpose."

Hermione looked to where his hand gestured and nodded. "When can we get started?"

"I have some research to do first," Snape replied. "I must first exhume my original notes. It has been quite some time since I have last studied them." And then he paused and looked at her. "How frequent are your relapses?"

Hermione chewed on her lower lip, "The last one was over a year ago. There hasn't been any real set pattern...nothing that I have been able to connect it with, anyway."

Snape nodded, but when he said nothing further, Hermione neatly and meticulously folded the fur blanket and laid it beside her. For the second time that morning, she placed her hands on either side of her legs and pushed herself into a standing position. She faltered for only a moment, and in that time Snape had crossed the expanse of the room and was standing beside her, ready to catch her if she wavered.

"I'm fine," Hermione assured him, slightly embarrassed.

He said nothing, but walked beside her as she made her way to the far wall where she remembered the entrance door to be. Her steps were slow and stiff, and he slowed his pace to match hers. When she at last arrived at the wall, she turned around to face him. Staring at his face for a long moment, she observed the high cheek bones and the firm set of his jaw. Looking away, she remembered herself.

"Again, thank you for your...help. I...," Hermione trailed off quietly and then looked him firmly in the face. "Kindness is a rare thing in the world...," she hesitated, "...but it is something that is not easily forgotten."

He looked down at her, his tall form not as foreboding as it had seemed a month earlier. Under his breath, he muttered the password, and with a resounding _crack, _the stone door bent in on itself and opened to the dark corridor. As Hermione turned to walk away, he said quietly, "You are quite right, Professor Granger. It is a rare thing, indeed."

She turned around to look at him once more, and smiled. The flames from the torches on the walls danced delicately across her face, and a moment later, she turned to head to the spiral stairs that ascended to the main hallway.

Snape stood and listened to her light footfalls as they slowly retreated from earshot. After several moments of lingering on the threshold, he turned back into his quarters.

* * *

It only took two days for Hermione to feel completely back to her normal self.

The first day was Sunday, and she considered herself quite fortunate that she didn't have classes to attend while she recovered. On Monday, she still moved slower than usual, and she caught Snape's gaze lingering on her as she left the Great Hall after breakfast. He hadn't spoken a word to her since she had left his quarters, but Hermione didn't let that deter her. She knew that just because he had assisted her didn't mean that they would sit next to one another at meals, chatting amiably, or would stay up until all hours of the night, swapping stories.

Hermione was much more practical than that.

That afternoon, Kobic arrived with a letter from Harry, containing lavish details on his wedding preparations, courtesy of Ginny, and a brief summary of what was going on regarding the Malfoys.

_Still no sign of the Malfoys,_ Harry wrote. _Searched the manor from top to bottom - everything is still there. It's as though they vanished without a trace. Buckley wants you involved on it, too. He claims that you're brilliant, or some other rubbish like that. I'll have to come snag you within the next couple of weekends if something doesn't break open soon._

The letter went on to ask how teaching was going, and other trivial things of that nature. But as Hermione finished reading the letter, she felt a strange sadness come over her. She and Harry had rarely been parted since they had first met when they were eleven, and she had forgotten just how much she truly missed him.

Hogwarts wasn't quite the same without Harry and Ron.

Lost in her thoughts, a small noise from her window startled her. Anxiously looking to the source of the sound, Hermione spotted a tawny owl that was perched on the ledge of the closed window, waiting impatiently for Hermione to unlatch the lock and let him in. The moment Hermione opened the window, the small tawny flew in and landed on her nice chair.

Kobic hooted indignantly.

It was a school owl, Hermione recognized, and it obediently held it's talon forward so Hermione could retrieve the letter. She fumbled with the string for a moment, and Kobic went into a feathery fit behind her.

"Oh, be quiet, you," Hermione admonished, turning around to look at her black owl. "You're not being replaced."

Kobic calmed himself slightly, but chattered angrily at the poor tawny, who wisely kept his distance.

The letter was exactly two sentences long and written in an immaculate penmanship that Hermione immediately recognized - though it had been several years since she had last seen it.

_Professor Granger,_

_My final class concludes today at six o'clock this evening. I will begin with our project at that time._

_SS_

Hermione blinked as she reread the letter with a sudden excitement burning within her. It had been several years since she had done anything at all with potions, aside from the ones she had used during her Auror training. And she had certainly never done anything outside of textbook theory - she had been sure to admonish Harry on several occasions when he followed the directions of the Half-Blood Prince.

But there was also the new prospect of working with Snape in his element. While it was no secret that he was passionate about the Dark Arts, there was no denying that he was a brilliant Potion's Master. Though he had been rude and short with her while she had been at school, she had secretly admired him for his strict and rigorous teaching methods. His criticisms and pushed her father and made her more determined to succeed.

Walking to her chestnut desk, Hermione retrieved two owl treats from the top drawer. She gave one to the tawny and fondly patted him on the head while Kobic flapped his wings angrily behind her.

"Thank you," she said to the light colored owl, "There's no return message. He'll know that I'm coming."

The little owl nervously chewed his treat, all the while eying his larger black brother, and then quickly flew out the window.

"Stop being such a baby," Hermione said as she walked over to Kobic and gave him the remaining treat. "You know that I'm not getting another owl."

Kobic took the treat and then promptly turned his back to her, ruffling his feathers. Hermione rolled her eyes and put on her dark cloak. The cooler weather had viciously permeated the castle, and she didn't relish in the thought of being in the dungeons while freezing to death. She quickly grabbed her satchel and made to go to her final class for the day.

"Goodbye Grumpy," Hermione called over her shoulder as she exited her quarters.

* * *

Hermione's seventh year Charm's class was typically her favorite. These were the students who were serious about their studies and were capable of practicing advanced spells that Hermione was always eager to teach. Today, however, the time couldn't seem to pass fast enough.

It was her Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw class, and as the students practiced the non-verbal_ Confringo_ charm, objects being blasted and destroyed right and left, Hermione found herself looking anxiously at her watch.

_Only ten more minutes until I get to brew an illegal potion with a man whom I had previously assumed hated me with every fiber of his being._

_Yippee._

It seemed like an eternity, but the ten minutes passed at last, and Hermione quickly shouted the homework assignment to the class as she pulled her cloak over her shoulders and stuffed her texts and parchment into her satchel. As soon as the final student cleared her classroom, she quickly exited and headed for the steep spiral stairs that descended into the dungeon.

She decided to check Snape's classroom first, seeing as how it was only just past six. Well, that and the fact that she didn't know the password to enter his quarters without permission. As she approached the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, she could hear muffled talking from the long corridor, and it soon dissolved into words as she approached the threshold.

"You don't believe me, Professor?" A student was asking.

"I do not doubt your valor, Mr. Baer, but I would advise you to use caution with your confidence," Snape replied.

Hermione peeked her head into the classroom to see Snape with three Slytherin students, one of them being Sean Bear - a seventh year Slytherin who reminded Hermione vaguely of Draco Malfoy. He shared the blond hair that Malfoy had, though his eyes were incredibly dark for someone with so light a completion. And while Sean Baer hadn't given Hermione any real trouble in her classes up to that point, she knew him to contain the same beliefs as the Malfoys had - pureblood supremacy.

"Obviously," Sean Baer continued as he sauntered over toward Snape, "I mean you to be the exception, sir. I'm not foolish enough to think I could disarm _you_ in a duel," he paused as he smirked at his two friends. "But I would put any amount of galleons on the line that I could disarm anyone else at Hogwarts, the other professors included."

Snape's mouth quirked into an awkward half smile. "You are positively naive, Mr. Baer. If you are not careful, your belief in your abilities will be your downfall. I tell you this not to destroy your young ego, but to help you understand there is more out in the world that you can possibly imagine."

"I'm talking about right here, sir," Sean Baer pressed, "They're all pathetic - the lot of them. Students _and_ professors. Did you see me disarm Jordan Hanks earlier today? He didn't even see it coming. And I can scarcely imagine Professor Trelawney wielding a wand, let alone stunning someone with it."

Hermione smiled quietly to herself as she walked through the threshold, drawing the attention of all four inhabitants of the classroom. "Well, Mr. Baer," Hermione said brightly as she made her way to the front of the room, her light footsteps echoing in the empty space, "...it looks as though someone is willing to accept that challenge."

His light eyebrow rose in confusion, "What?"

Hermione made her way closer to Snape, who looked extremely irritated about something, and she quickly deposited her satchel on one of the desks adjacent to where he stood.

As she drew her wand from her robes, she asked innocently, "Did I not make myself clear? You said that you could disarm anyone in the school - professors included, and here I am, happy to oblige to your request."

Sean Baer's face faltered for a moment, but he quickly regained his composure. "You are willing to duel with _me_, Professor Granger?" He seemed almost excited. "Will I get into trouble?"

Hermione shrugged her shoulders, "I don't see why, since I am clearly willing and doing it in accordance with my own choice."

Snape, who had been completely silent up to this point, walked toward Hermione and stood so near to her that she backed into a rogue desk. He was close enough for the most intimate of whispers.

"Do not do this," he said.

Hermione's brow furrowed defiantly, "And why not?" she whispered back, tilting her head back slightly so she could meet his dark eyes, "This boy is as arrogant as Malfoy - if not more so. You said it yourself...pride is a dangerous thing."

Snape swallowed and bent his head closer to hers. "You are not yet fully recovered from your...ordeal. And Sean is...surprisingly good with a wand."

Hermione looked up at him with confusion.

Was he really that concerned with her wellbeing? A part of her, her heart, clenched tightly as her face flushed - a strange new emotion stirring within her. But another part, a larger part, thought it was condescending as all hell.

Hermione's brow narrowed, "Really _Professor_," she spat icily, "...it's a wonder you agreed at all to let me help you with the potion - since you clearly don't have any faith that I can even disarm a student. You must be wonderfully surprised that I survived the War."

Sean Baer and his two companions watched the two professors whisper angrily at one another, confusion etched on all three of their faces.

"I do not doubt your skill with a wand," Snape whispered deeply, "...I simply find it _unwise_ to subject yourself to a duel so soon after a traumatic experience that even _Healers _can't identify."

Hermione regarded him defiantly, her sorrel eyes dancing with fury. After a moment, she turned from Snape. "Mr. Baer, whenever you are ready."

Behind her, Snape looked much like the time when Harry had cast a shield charm on him that was so powerful, it knocked him fully off his feet. The anger was rolling off him in waves.

Sean Baer moved to the far side of the room, down the aisle of desks as his two lackeys made their way to the opposite walls. Hermione carefully removed her dark cloak, revealing the long crimson robe beneath it. Sean was looking at her from the opposite side of the room with a smirk on his face that truly rivaled Malfoy's. Gripping her wand tightly, Hermione bowed. After a long moment, Sean returned the gesture.

Hermione instantly felt the force of the spell coming at her. It was non-verbal, but she sensed the magic just as easily as if he had spoken the words aloud. With a deft flick of her wand, she blocked the spell, a powerful display of light and color as the curse rebounded loudly off Hermione's shield. And without a break in momentum, Hermione turned and cast the disarming spell nonverbally, with much more force than she had originally intended.

Sean didn't have any time to retaliate. The spell hit him hard, jarring his wand loose as it flew across the room into Hermione's waiting hand. The force of the spell was enough to knock him off balance, and he hit the stone floor hard, several paces from where he had originally stood.

The two lackeys looked at one another in shock, both unsure of what exactly to do. Hermione, however, turned to look at Snape with a small smile on her lips. Though he did not return the gesture, there was a glint in his dark eyes that made Hermione's smile grow even wider. She crossed the room with easy strides, no indication whatsoever that she had been limping a few days prior.

When she reached Sean, who was still lying on the stone floor with a look of shock and wounded pride on his face, she said quietly, "Pride is a dangerous thing, Mr. Baer. Read the history books; it has been of the fall of many vast empires."

She offered his wand to him, and reached with her other hand to pull him to his feet, but he stopped her with an outstretched hand.

"Don't touch me, _Mudblood_."

Snape crossed the expanse of the classroom so quickly that if they hadn't been in Hogwarts, Hermione would have assumed he had apparated. Within seconds, he strode passed Hermione and was leaning menacingly over Sean's prone form.

"If I _ever_ hear you use that word again to Professor Granger or to any other living soul," he spat with such fury that Hermione, herself, recoiled slightly behind him. "I will personally see to it that not only you be _expelled_ from this school, but every letter of recommendation that has been written on your behalf will be _destroyed_ in the blink of an eye. Do you understand?"

Beneath him, Sean looked at Snape in confusion. "But...sir..."

Snape reached down and roughly grabbed him by the shoulders. For a brief instant, Hermione was worried he had his hands around the boy's neck.

"Two hundred points from Slytherin," Snape said in a deadly tone.

Behind Hermione, the two Slytherin boys immediately went into action. "Two hundred points! Sir, that's hardly - "

"Do _not_ test me," Snape growled, turning on the other boys. "Or I will double it."

The silence that hung in the room was deafening. Eventually, Sean scrambled to his feet, quickly taking his wand from Hermione, and he and his cabal hurried out of the room without turning around to grab their bags.

Snape remained crouched on the floor for a long moment. Steadying himself, he put a hand on his thigh and pushed himself to his feet. Beneath the thick curtain of black hair, his face searched Hermione's intently.

When Hermione said nothing, but continued to stare at him in silence, he offered quietly, "He had no right to say that to you."

Hermione looked down at her wand and fingered it absentmindedly. "It's no more than what I've been called on numerous occasions."

Snape's face furrowed with something Hermione couldn't quite recognize.

Compassion? Sorrow? Sympathy?

"That does not make it right," he said at last, taking a tentative step toward her.

Hermione nodded and looked away from his face. She was embarrassed that hot tears were beginning to well up in her eyes and knew she would never be able to live with herself if she let him see her cry. Why was it bothering her so much anyway? She hadn't cried over that word since her second year of school.

When Harry or Ron were around, it had never seemed to bother her - primarily due to the fact that she was usually trying to restrain both of them from hexing whomever it was that had thrown the term at her. But Harry and Ron weren't with her now, and it was that same lonesomeness that she had felt when she had read Harry's letter earlier that day that somehow made the word seem unbearable.

Batting furiously at her eyes with the back of her hand, Hermione managed to restrain herself and she quickly gained her composure. When she looked up at Snape, there was an indescribable look in his dark eyes - a shared sorrow, a kinship or sorts.

Perhaps the two of them weren't so different after all.

He looked at her for a long moment before saying quietly, "Intelligent and fearsome...a dangerous combination if I may be so bold to say."

It took her a moment, but she flashed him a glorious smile and then sheepishly looked down at her wand. When she gained the courage to look at him once more, he gave her a soft smile, and then walked over to her satchel and picked it up, along with her cloak. Quietly returning to her, he offered her her dark garment and said, "After you, Professor Granger. I believe we have a potion to brew."

* * *

_A/N: Hey all! Sorry for the long wait on the update...but to be fair - I did warn you. :) Thanks so much for all the reviews thus far, they motivate me like you wouldn't believe. This has been, by far, my favorite chapter to write. Please drop a review and let me know if you're still intrigued. My biggest concern is if I'm staying within the character's cannon. Thanks again! _


	6. Chapter 6

_"Once you choose hope, anything's possible."_

Christopher Reeve

* * *

**Chapter 6: The Beginning**

* * *

"Crushed snake fangs," Hermione asked with a raised eyebrow, some four weeks after her impromptu duel in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, "...you're sure?"

Snape looked up from a steaming cauldron with an expression that assured Hermione that he was, indeed, certain about that particular ingredient.

Hermione shrugged and carefully handed him the powdered ingredient as she watched him meticulously stir the azure liquid.

The previous weeks had been some of the strangest, and yet somehow, the most enjoyable Hermione could recall in recent memory. The work with Snape had all but consumed her. In the beginning, she told herself that it was merely because she was so desperate to unearth a cure to aid with her past ailments; but the more time she spent at Snape's side, the more she realized that she longed to understand the man behind the cauldron.

To put it simply; he was brilliant.

She had already known that, of course; but being able to wrestle with that keen and penetrating mind was like waking up to an early spring morning - fresh, new, and completely invigorating.

Harry had always been an average student and generally avoided academic questions unless they were being forcefully pressed upon him. Whenever Hermione asked him about new theories in the world of magic or specific articles she had read in the _Daily Prophet_, Harry would merely roll his eyes fondly as he listened to her. She would always ask his opinion, but the response tended to be less than helpful.

"Merlin, Hermione, I don't know," Harry would say, while he scratched the back of his unruly hair, "I didn't even understand the damn question."

And Ron, well..., that was an entirely different story altogether. Hermione had learned quickly to never speak with him on anything that was remotely academically related.

"Bloody hell, Hermione," Ron had cursed on several occasions. "We're out of school...I'm not supposed to have to think about this stuff anymore!"

But Snape, with him, she could at last stretch her legs and defy gravity; and not once did she hold back.

The first day in his private laboratory she had been unusually quiet and reserved, handing him specific ingredients when he requested them. She dutifully prepared the cauldron and began cutting various ingredients while he silently studied his notes. But as the days wore on and she grew bolder, she would press him, asking his opinion on certain theories of Potions, new and old alike, and would urge him to explain his conjectures while she listened intently.

"You've never mentioned anything about the sanction on advanced potions for underage wizards, and the restrictions that apply when they first come of age," Hermione pressed one day, while passing him several Valerian roots, "...I would have thought you would have a rather bold opinion on that."

Snape smirked as he took the ingredients from her, brushing the bare of his palm slightly against her hand. "I feel nothing for that law, whatsoever," he replied dryly, "...if a child is incompetent when he is sixteen, then his coming of age is not likely to change that unfortunate trait."

Hermione smiled widely as she leaned against his workbench. "Tell me how you _really_ feel."

Snape blinked and looked up at her from the boiling cauldron. Hermione was certain that he knew she was teasing him, but also wagered that no one else dared to bait him in such a manner - even McGonagall. And though he would stare at her for several moments after she made such comments; he never once admonished her.

And that, Hermione felt, was a small triumph.

In their first conversations he had been guarded and selective; but as Hermione expressed genuine interest and intrigue, he began to, ever so cautiously, lower his defensive walls and bantered back without so much as raising an eyebrow. He was still terse and opinionated, but he never ignored her, and Hermione soon found herself longing to be near him so they could speak plainly. She would easily become caught up in the moment - overly excited as she found herself presented with infinite possibilities - and the nearly intoxicated effect she would feel afterwards as her mind struggled to grasp the new concepts he had presented her.

But she was always very careful of anything she ever brought up. Nothing of Dumbledore, and certainly nothing of his own past. She was cautious when she mentioned Harry, convinced that was still a very delicate subject with him. She tried to bring up Ron as much as she dared, though those conversations were usually short lived. Hermione hadn't genuinely spoken with Ron for several years, and she didn't bother trying to keep up any pretenses for Snape. His experience as a spy put him well beyond that.

"You speak of Weasley as though you no longer consider him your acquaintance," Snape offered one day while Hermione was stirring the thick liquid with her wand.

She finished her counting and then looked up with a shrug. "We don't really speak much anymore."

Perceptive as ever, Snape raised an eyebrow. "I find that difficult to believe."

She paused and looked into the bubbling cauldron for several long moments before saying quietly, "I don't really know." Stepping back from the potion, she leaned against his desk while absentmindedly fingering her wand. "Life, I have found, rarely turns out how you expect it to."

He looked at her suspiciously, perhaps wondering if she was inadvertently trying to harrow up something of his past, but before he could say anything of the sort, Hermione was speaking again. "I was always sufficiently naive, as I'm sure you'd guess. My outlook on life while at school was idealistic, at best. S.P.E.W., the prejudices and injustice of blood racism, along with my idea of some long awaited utopia once the War was over, were all things that hit me the hardest."

"But I think more than anything," she continued, as he stood before her in silence, "I always assumed that no matter what happened in my future, that Harry and Ron would be there with me."

He stared at her with perfect stillness. Their conversations had never strayed into anything remotely personal, and now, Hermione had just bared a small section of her heart to him. Her eyes widened frightfully as she realized what she had done.

Inwardly, she cursed herself.

How could she have been so foolish? She knew that Snape had loathed Harry from the moment he had met him, and Ron couldn't be much further behind on the list. And there she was, opening another portion of her soul to him regarding the two people she was confident he could truly care less about.

What right did she have to think of herself as a martyr? He had suffered much more than she could possibly imagine, she was sure, and hadn't he lost in the end as well? His love and passion for Lily, a love that would always remained unfulfilled, must have been infinitely more traumatic than her falling out with Ron could ever have been.

But he was walking slowly towards her now, more than likely to admonish her for her tactlessness. As she quietly hung her head, her hair hung loosely around her face. He stopped a few feet in front of her and asked quietly, "Are you not still in correspondence with..._Potter_?"

He said Harry's name as though he was being forced to take a particularly nasty medicine.

"I.., what?" Hermione asked as her sorrel eyes looked up at him in confusion.

That certainly wasn't in the cards.

"I do not believe you are _deaf_, Professor Granger," he replied tersely.

His comment caught her off guard and she quickly tried to regain her composure. "Oh, well yes. We still correspond." She chewed her lip nervously. "He's um...well, he's getting married, so he's rather busy..."

She felt so foolish. How did this happen? She had been so careful to never let their work and experimentation come to this - to anything personal. And now she felt as awkward in his presence as she did during their encounter in Professor McGonagall's office before the term even began.

It was one step forward, and two _giant_ steps back.

"Life," he said darkly as he stared at a spot just over her shoulder, "...is never fair."

Hermione swallowed as she met his dark eyes. "I...I know," she said quietly.

_Shouldn't I be the one having this conversation with you? And not the other way around? Oh, Merlin, I am the world's biggest git._

He regarded her for a long moment, his eyes seemingly trying to discern something of her character, something of her own weakness, she assumed. But after an extended period of silence, he turned from her and set to work on the potion.

Slowly, meticulously, Hermione made her way to his side, her robes brushing across the impeccably clean stone floor. She stood quietly beside him, feeling a strange sense of smallness in his presence.

At length she offered softly, while keenly observing the hem of her robe, "I'm sorry."

He looked up from the cauldron, a slight look of confusion etched across his pale face. "A vague statement, indeed, Professor Granger," he replied with sarcasm. "Though if you do intend to apologize for the countless hours of frustration I had to endure while teaching on your behalf, please understand that I cannot acquiesce your request. " He looked at her for a long moment with a perfect deadpan. "No apology on earth could be sufficient enough for that."

Hermione smiled slightly, finding that she quite enjoyed this new discovery of his humor."No, I, er, just wanted to apologize for running my mouth. Sometimes it gets away from me - well, it quite often gets away from me," she back peddled, "...and I had no right to inflict something like that on you. You certainly don't need to endure hearing my every worry and concern."

Snape looked at her, his face emotionless as ever. With careful hands, he lowered a vial of dragon's blood to the counter, and then turned to face her fully. "Professor Granger," he said quietly, "Do not be so presumptuous to assume that I do not care for the wellbeing of my students _and_ fellow professors. I would have thought that everything you discovered of my nature shortly after you attended school would have proven that point."

Hermione looked at him with such a started expression that Snape actually had the audacity to chuckle softly to himself.

"Is my attempt to brew this potion not proof enough for you? Or, are you going off the assumption that I have something more sinister in mind?"

"Oh...well," she stumbled, completely taken off guard, "No, I've never doubted that, Professor."

"Never?" he pressed, looking at her with genuine interest.

Hermione swallowed audibly.

_Well, there was the minor incident at the end of my sixth year when I though you had betrayed us all by killing Albus Dumbledore from the top of the Astronomy Tower, but other than that...I guess I just always assumed you were an extremely unpleasant person._

"Not really, no."

He smirked. "Lies do not become you, Professor Granger."

Her eyes widened even further and she looked at her feet, too embarrassed to meet his dark eyes.

Evidently, he knew a bid for a change of subject when it presented itself, and he cleared his throat. "Do make yourself useful and hand me that jar of rat spleens."

Hermione looked up, a grateful expression crossing her features, and walked to a well-maintained cabinet that contained various potions ingredients. She carefully grabbed the requested jar and then returned to the cauldron, stifling a yawn with her free hand.

"You're tired," Snape observed without empathy, taking the jar from her hands. "I will finish here tonight and we can resume this weekend."

Hermione nodded gratefully and then checked herself as a sudden thought crossed her. "Oh, I completely forgot. I can't this weekend. I can certainly come Monday after class, though."

Snape frowned, but remained quiet as he observed an old label on a putrid looking flask.

"I've been summoned by the Auror Department," she offered by way of explanation. "I have to head for London Saturday morning."

He whirled around to face her completely. "The Auror Department?" he repeated with a frown. After a brief moment, the frown soon resolved itself into a deep scowl. "They should be investing their efforts in tracking down rogue Death Eaters, not imposing on Hogwarts professors."

Hermione managed a small smile. "Technically, I'm a part of that department. They've called me away for the weekend."

Snape looked at her as though she had transformed into Blast Ended Skrewt.

"Part-time," Hermione continued hurriedly, as she began playing with a stay curl. "I, er, it hasn't been official very long...I mean, that is to say, I was only inducted just recently..." she trailed off, more and more unsure of what to do about Snape's strange expression.

He had been staring at her silently, his normally phlegmatic face resolving into something Hermione wasn't quite sure what to make of.

_Is he angry, just now?_

_Don't be ridiculous. Why would anyone be angry just because they discovered I was an Auror?_

_But what is that look?_

He remembered himself and looked at his notes on the workbench. "I did not know your interests lay in that particular field," he said simply.

Hermione shrugged. "They don't. Not really."

Snape raised a brow as he shuffled his notes.

"It was more...," she trailed off, uncertain of how much of her personal life she should reveal to him. She had already embarrassed herself sufficiently enough on that particular front tonight. So she swallowed and offered simply, "It was more Harry, really, than anything. One last attempt keep things the same as they had always been."

He nodded and looked at her, understanding and sympathy chasing themselves over the contours of his face. Walking so he was standing only a few inches from her, he asked, "Does it involve the Malfoys?"

Hermione looked at him in alarm, the expression on her face betraying her. She had always worn her emotions on the sleeve of her robe, and she knew that despite not saying anything at all, the cat was out of the proverbial bag. So instead of lying to him, saying that she didn't know what he was talking about, she asked, "What do you know about the Malfoys?"

She wasn't actually _denying_ that her meeting with the Aurors had anything to do with that particular family, though she wasn't necessarily _confirming_ it either. It was an ethically shaky game to play, but at the very least if she was asked; she wouldn't be lying.

How very _Slytherin_ of her.

Snape regarded her darkly. "About as much as you do, I'm sure. Though anyone that believes for even a second that Lucius reformed to the finer intricacies of society is both idiotic and gravely mistaken."

Hermione nodded. "I agree. Hatred like his is something that cannot be purged so easily."

Snape raised an eyebrow and quirked his lip. "Well, well, Professor Granger, you obviously aren't as naive as your earlier conversation would have led me to believe."

She smiled. "I don't know whether to take that as a compliment or not."

His face resolved into it's normal expression. "Take it either way you'd like; but that particular family is more dangerous than the imbecilic Ministry is willing to admit."

Hermione nodded her agreement and stood silently as the potion glopped and gurgled behind her.

"Technically speaking," she swallowed, "...this conversation never happened."

He looked at her indifferently. "Quite."

There was a brief awkward silence before Hermione cleared her throat. "I should be going. I suppose I will see you at the Halloween feast tomorrow night?"

Snape shook his head. "No, I have some business to attend to. I will see you Monday after classes to resume our project."

"All right."

She turned to let herself out, and he followed quietly. It was the same mundane ritual they had observed every evening since her first night in his private quarters. As she reached the stone wall that led to the corridor she turned around and smiled softly. "Goodnight."

He nodded, and she walked through the threshold and into the darkness. "Oh, and Professor Granger?"

Hermione turned and looked at him curiously.

"Do try to not get yourself killed this weekend. I'm profoundly busy as it is, and if Minerva asked me to take over your classes, I can assure you that it would indeed be the final straw."

And with that, the stone relief closed in on itself.

As Hermione made her way on the long journey to Gryffindor Tower, she smiled quietly to herself.

* * *

When Hermione entered the hidden threshold to her private quarters, she felt more exhausted than ever. With a deft flick of her wand, a crackling fire roared to life in the hearth. Crookshanks, even in his elderly state, waddled happily over to the new found warmth. Hermione yawned loudly, and then settled down at her chestnut desk for a quick overview of her first year Charms essays. Kobic was already hooting impatiently behind her, _was Hedwig ever this demanding?_, and when she turned to acknowledge him, he had already flown from his perch and landed roughly on her forearm.

"Ouch!" Hermione hissed, as she carefully moved him to his perch on her desk. "What have I told you about that? You're talons are too sharp," she admonished.

Pulling up the sleeve of her robe, she saw six angry red marks on her forearm that stood out against her otherwise flawless skin.

She looked back up at Kobic with slightly narrowed eyes. "And just what was so important that you had to tear my arm apart for?"

The owl obediently held out his right leg. Beneath the ebony feathers was a small scroll attached quite meticulously, that Hermione had not seen during the frenzy of being mauled by her bird. She quickly removed the letter and patted Kobic kindly on the head, despite her stinging arm.

The letter was from Harry, and when she read its brief contents, she mentally slapped herself for completely forgetting what it was that he requested.

_Hermione,_

_I know I'll be seeing you on Saturday, but I forgot to mention that Ginny and I are going to Godric's Hollow tomorrow afternoon, if you care to join us. Owl your response as soon as you can._

_Love,_

_Harry_

_P.S. I think you've been neglecting Kobic a little. He seemed quite demanding on his last trip here._

Hermione rolled her eyes and wrote a quick response.

Each Halloween since their search for the Horcruxes, Hermione had accompanied Harry to Godric's Hollow to visit his parents graves. Ron had come too, in the beginning, but always seemed to feel awkward when his best friend cried. So Ginny had come in his stead, and the three of them had made it an annual tradition to visit and honor Harry's parents on the anniversary of their death. It had seemed somewhat morbid to Hermione at first, but she understood Harry's reasoning, and had never questioned him.

Tomorrow, she knew, she would never be able to meet Harry at the requested time. She was already behind on grading her essays, largely due to the fact that her nights were generally occupied by a certain tall and dark professor. She scribbled and apology and paused, chewing nervously on her lower lip. Though she had never known the Potters, she still felt a strange and deep connection with them. If she didn't go tomorrow, she knew she would feel guilty about it for weeks.

Looking down at the small parchment, she added:

_I won't be able to make it when you and Gin go - I'm so sorry, Harry. You wouldn't believe how behind I am on my essays. I'll make my own trip to Godric's Hollow tomorrow night after the Halloween Feast. I can't wait to see you on Saturday. _

Feeling slightly better about herself; she rolled up the parchment and attached it to Kobic's leg.

"Be safe," she whispered, as she pulled the latch on the window, letting the biting night air in.

Kobic took off without a backward glance and Hermione sighed heavily, turning again to her unread essays.

* * *

Halloween passed much the same as any other day, though the students were decidedly more rowdy than normal. Hermione saw Snape at breakfast, and then once more at lunch. Their eyes met briefly, but Snape appeared to be infinitely more surly than he had during the past weeks. Before the house elves even had time to clear the meal, he quickly left the head table, black robes billowing as he exited the Main Hall.

The Halloween feast passed in much the same fashion, though Hermione felt Snape's absence more than she would have cared to admit. She sat next to Oliver, who was chatting excitedly about a new Quidditch move that would be demonstrated at next week's match with Gryffindor and Slytherin. She feigned interest as best she could, though he was quickly trying her patience, and then politely excused herself, hurrying to her quarters to grab her traveling cloak.

The night air was biting, and as she made her way across the Hogwarts grounds, Hermione pulled her cloak tightly around her shivering body. The wind had picked up, and by the time she made it to the apparation point, her hair was blowing wildly into a tangled fury. She turned on the spot, feeling the uncomfortable pressure enclosing her, and disapparated into the night.

The air was noticeably calmer at Godric's Hollow.

The town was quiet, except for a small rustle of dead leaves at Hermione's feet. She clutched her cloak tightly around her neck and walked through the main street of the tiny town. She passed the statue of the baby Harry with his parents and paused momentarily to observe it, feeling a strange sense of nostalgia. After a moment she remembered herself, and continued quietly towards the small church with the rusty gate.

Hermione paused at the gate, a slight movement catching her out of the corner of her eye. Instinctively, she drew her wand and held her breath. Crouching low to the ground, she peered through the gate and saw a dark cloaked figure moving in her direction. With her heart pounding in her ears, she had a sudden flash of deja vu from when she had been here with Harry, some seven years prior, and had been startled by Bathilda Bagshot. She knew, however, that whomever this was, it most certainly was not Bathilda Bagshot.

The figure was getting closer now, and Hermione quietly flung herself into a small alcove of the weathered church. She knew she could very well be overreacting, but her past experiences had taught her that it was better to be paranoid than dead. As the figure made to walk past her, Hermione clutched her wand tightly, a curse on the edge of her tongue; but when she saw the figure's face beneath his hood as he strode through the gate, her heart very nearly exploded.

The figure was Severus Snape.

Snape walked through the gate without a second glance, and quickly trudged up the beaten path that led to the main road of the town. Hermione was frozen to the spot, her heart pounding wildly, her breathing erratic. When she finally managed to shake the cobwebs from her head, her mind was racing at a million kilometers a second.

_Snape?_

And then, without warning, she felt her heart suddenly ache in a way she wasn't sure she had ever felt before. It was a literal stabbing pain, a burning pressure on her chest, sharp and acute. She took her left hand from the muddied ground and held it against her, wincing slightly. It was as though the wind had been knocked out of her and for several moments, she struggled to breathe.

He had been here for Lily.

Without realizing it, Hermione's eyes had filled with tears. She sat in the mud for a long moment, trying to regain some semblance of composure, all the while clutching her chest furtively. She didn't believe in love - she had told herself that a thousand times - but how could she deny what she had just witnessed? Snape's love for Lily went beyond the grave, and a love like that, if it truly existed, was only something Hermione had read about in fairy tales.

It wasn't real, it wasn't tangible. But Snape...

He was real.

Hermione's breath hitched in her throat as she shakily struggled to her feet. All she could feel was anguish, _his_ anguish, a burning torment that grasped onto her heart and refused to let go. Her mind was a complete daze as she made her way to the grave. _Was mankind truly capable of having the capacity to love someone that deeply? That unconditionally? Could it at all be possible?_

It had to be.

She knew it had to be because there was no other explanation for the scene she had just witnessed. Whether or not that love existed in her; she couldn't be certain. But the fact that she recognized it existed at all felt like the dawning of a new sunrise, a new light shining in an otherwise darkened place.

It was hope.

She reached her destination sooner than she realized, and suddenly found herself looking down at the grave of James and Lily Potter. There had always been an indescribable feeling at the place - a reverence, something incredibly and unspeakably sacred. Hermione shivered as the goosebumps began to form intricate patterns across her arms. And looking just below the effigy; she discovered a single red rose. Without realizing what she was doing; she stooped and picked up the humble flower.

The crimson petals were so deep that she could have sworn they were black.

As Hermione turned the rose over in her hands, there was no doubt in her mind it was from Severus Snape. It was sharp and dangerous, but hid something impossibly exquisite. The rose emulated Snape in every sense, in every turn. After a moment, the fog lifted in her mind and she returned the gift to it's rightful place by Lily's name. She then conjured two roses of her own and placed them neatly on the cold granite.

Staring ahead as the leaves brushed across the ground at her feet, Hermione closed her eyes and whispered reverently, as she did ever year, "Thank you."

* * *

_A/N: Okay folks, if anyone is confused about the title of this chapter, it's due to the idiot author here. I originally planned for this chapter to go quite a bit further with the plot, but as I began writing it - I realized it needed more 'meat', more substance. So, if I would have written it as I had intended, I think it would have been over 10,000 words. And somehow, that was just too long. And so, I really hope it isn't too much of a deterrent if you're confused. :) As always, please take a sec to leave a review and let me know if I'm making this fic go in the right direction. I need comments on more areas than I can name. Thanks to all the nice reviews so far!_

_- Liz_


	7. Chapter 7

_"Change is the essence of life. Be willing to surrender what you are for what you could become."_

Unknown

* * *

**Chapter 7: The Change**

* * *

"This isn't exactly," Hermione said as she walked through Harry's office door, "...the job I signed on for."

Harry looked up from a stack of parchments with a wide grin, standing to embrace his friend. "Hermione! Great to see you!" He said enthusiastically as he wrapped his arms roughly around her. "But bloody hell," he added as he pulled back and scrutinized her appearance, "...you look awful."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Geez, Harry, it's good to see you too."

Harry chuckled. "No, I mean it. Everything okay? It looks as though you haven't slept properly at all since I saw you last."

Hermione gave him a small smile and sat down on a rather rickety chair. "I don't think I _have_ had a proper night's sleep. Who was I kidding when I thought I could teach _and _be an Auror? Am I really that arrogant?"

"Of course not," Harry smiled. "You've only ever had the tiniest bit of arrogance about you."

Hermione jabbed her elbow into his side. "Git."

Harry rubbed his side and leaned against his cluttered desk. As Hermione's eyes wandered around the cramped office, she realized that it didn't look much different from the last time she had been there.

"Well," she said mockingly as she folded her arms across her chest, "...it looks as though you're still doing your spring cleaning. What was it you told me the last time I was here? Oh, yes. I remember. You still 'hadn't had time to unpack', as you had just been moved to a new office."

Harry shrugged with a small chuckle. "I guess I forgot that you would ever come into this office again."

She rolled her eyes. "I should have known better than to have given you the benefit of the doubt."

Harry smiled helplessly, casting a pleading look in Hermione's direction.

"So," Hermione pressed as she looked at her friend, "At what time does our little adventure get underway? You asked me to be here bright and early - so here I am."

"As soon as the Department processes your paperwork for international travel. We should be ready to go within the hour."

"International travel?" Hermione asked with surprise. "Just _where_ are we going?"

Harry chuckled. "Germany."

When Hermione's widened, he added, "I'll explain later. But first, tell me how things are going at Hogwarts."

Hermione was still reeling with the prospect of going to Germany for the weekend and it took a moment for her thought processes to catch up with her. "Oh..., yeah, they're good. It's great, actually."

"How's Hagrid?" Harry asked with an eager expression.

"Well enough. I usually only see him at meals."

"At meals?" Harry seemed quite startled and cast her a strange look. "What the bloody hell are you doing all day? You spent loads of time with Hagrid last year when you were teaching."

"Don't swear," Hermione retorted out of habit. And then she bit her lip nervously.

This was where things got a little tricky.

She couldn't tell Harry about her project with Snape - she had given her word that she wouldn't tell anyone, and Snape had trusted her to that. Conveniently enough, she didn't necessarily relish in the prospect of telling Harry that her nights were largely occupied with the man, _and_ that she rather enjoyed his company.

Merlin, if Ron could see her now.

"I've been working on various...projects," she replied vaguely. "They've been taking up the majority of my free time."

Harry raised a thick eyebrow. "What kind of projects?"

"Experiments."

When Harry's face began to scrutinize her even further, she waved her hand dismissively in the air with a nonchalant attitude. "It would probably bore you to tears, Harry. If you care to recall the last incident of me explaining a new theory in Charms and the different elemental facets to the specific theorems, you might remember falling asleep into a bowl of mashed potatoes."

Harry laughed out loud. "Oh yeah, I forgot about that."

Hermione gave him a small smile that seemed to indicate, _I told you so._

"Well," Harry relented as he raised his hands in defeat, "I wish that you at least had time to see Hagrid."

Hermione nodded somberly. "Me too. Though I did go see his new unicorn about a month ago, which," she added in an exasperated voice, "...he has charmingly dubbed 'Thor'."

Harry chucked softly. "I think 'Norbert' might have been a better choice."

"Agreed."

They sat in silence for a moment, enjoying the familiar company. The years of shared companionship made any silence that came between them a comfortable affair. But Hermione's soft sorrel eyes sought Harry's intense emerald ones at last, and she asked, "So, are you going to fill me in on what we're going to be doing, or would you like to start with twenty questions?"

Harry smiled, the faint hint of a dimple in his right cheek. "Well, it's going to be like the old days," he offered. "Just you and me."

Hermione raised a brow. "Just the two of us?"

"It's the buddy system," Harry replied cheerfully. "And evidently the Auror Department feels that with your brains and my past experience as an Auror, that we just might crack this thing open."

Hermione appeared unimpressed. "But why not have as many Aurors at our disposal as we can? I mean, isn't that the point? To have an infinite amount of resources?"

Harry shrugged. "That sounds all fine and grand in the scheme of things, but we don't necessarily need to send in the calvary, Hermione. Besides, it's on Buckley's orders. It will just be you and I going to Germany, and he was very specific that he wanted you on this investigation."

Hermione frowned. "But why just us?"

"Merlin, Hermione, let me finish!" Harry cried exasperatedly, though smiling at the familiar scene he found himself in. And Hermione asking incessant questions was _more_ than just familiar. "It will be just the pair of us because we're going incognito."

When Hermione folded her arms impatiently across her chest, Harry elaborated. "We've recovered a...tape."

Hermione's forehead wrinkled in confusion. "What kind of tape?"

"A videotape - the muggle kind. Desh and Bowen recovered it in Germany."

"What does a muggle videotape have to do with the Malfoys? And how does Germany fit into _anything_, Harry? For expecting me to just jump at this with insurmountable enthusiasm; you're being rather vague."

"Sorry," Harry amended. And then he took a deep breath. "There have been four muggle killings in Germany over the past two weeks."

Hermione's eyes widened at the revelation, but she didn't interrupt him. "The local muggle authorities haven't been able to make anything of it - all autopsy reports have come back inconclusive," he paused. "But the one thing all four victims had in common was that they all appeared to be in decent health, no preexisting heart problems or any other medical conditions. And yet, somehow; they were all found dead."

He waited for Hermione's reaction, but she was surprisingly quiet; so he continued, "No outward physical harm was apparent, and all the deaths were roughly around the same area, leaving us to believe..."

"The killing curse," Hermione whispered as a new dreadful dawn encompassed her.

Harry nodded. "Yeah, we think so. We haven't been able to determine for sure - there's been no access whatsoever to the bodies. But everything seems to point to that direction. And, well, then there's the tape."

Hermione raised her eyebrows, waiting for him. But he was silent for several moments, gathering his thoughts. And Hermione wagered from the look on his face that whatever it was that was on the videotape; it wasn't pleasant. So a moment later she pressed quietly, "Just tell me Harry. Obviously I'll have to know what's on the tape if I'm going to be of any help."

He gave her a strained look; one which she knew all too well.

"Harry," Hermione said, her voice rising with agitation, "I know _that_ look. And if you think, even for one minute, that you're _protecting_ me," she spat the word with surprising vehemence, "...by not showing me what is on that tape; think again. Can you possibly imagine how condescending that is? And after everything that we've been through together?"

Harry's face softened and he reached and pulled Hermione to her feet so they were face to face. "Hermione," he said softly, "I know you're one of the most capable and resourceful witches in Britain. Don't ever doubt that I could ever see anything other than that when I look at you. But I can grieve a little, can't I? I can be wary and cautious regarding my best friend if I know something might effect her? It's not about me being the knight in shinning armor, Hermione - or about you being the damsel in distress. It's only about one friend look after another."

Hermione searched Harry's intense eyes and found nothing but sincerity. "Harry," she said with more feeling than she realized she was capable, "...I truly appreciate you looking out for me. But we're supposed to be working on this together. That's why I'm here, isn't it? I need you to trust me enough to know that I'm capable of knowing what I can and can't handle. And besides," she added as a small grin appeared on her face, "...if anyone is the damsel in distress; it's you."

Harry smiled sincerely. "Well, I can't argue that point. I don't know how many time's you've had to come and save my sorry arse."

"More times than I care to remember," she replied dryly.

"Okay," Harry said softly as he nodded his head in consent. "Okay, Hermione. As usual, you're right. Follow me."

And then he took her gently by the hand and led her out of his disastrously messy office and further down the narrow hallway of Auror offices until they reached a cracked brown door on the right side of the hallway. He deftly fished his wand out of his emerald robes and tapped it softly on the door handle. As the enchantment released on the door, Hermione brandished her own wand and wordlessly repaired it's broken surface.

"Oh," Harry said as he regarded the newly repaired door. "Thanks, Hermione. That looks loads better."

Hermione rolled her eyes and walked into the small, dark space. "Honestly, Harry. I can't believe you call yourself a wizard."

Harry smiled, shrugging slightly, and then quickly closed the door behind them. Hermione immediately lighted her wand as the darkness encompassed her, and discovered a rather ancient looking television waiting directly on the opposite wall. "Harry," Hermione said as she raised an eyebrow, "Since when has the Auror Department been hoarding old T.V.'s? Are you still coming in here on your lunch hour and watching superhero movies?"

Harry blushed, embarrassed that Hermione had recently unearthed his secret hobby of collecting old muggle superhero films. "No, Hermione. I told Buckley that we'd need something to watch the tape with, and this is what he brought in. Frankly, I'm just pleased he brought back an actual television. He's a pureblood, you know, and I can't exactly imagine sending Arthur Weasley on this task."

Hermione chuckled. "No, I guess you should be grateful. Arthur would have likely brought back a garbage disposal, or something to that effect."

Harry nodded his agreement as he waved his wand toward the T.V. "You ready?"

"Yes, Harry," Hermione replied exasperatedly. "Merlin, it's a wonder you wanted me to be an Auror in the first place."

Harry was about to retort, but thought better of it, and flicked his wrist slightly.

The screen instantly flashed to life, displaying an obnoxiously bright disarray of black and white fuzz for several seconds before finally resolving into a blurry image. It was difficult to make out what was happening in that the scene being filmed was so obviously shot at night. But after a moment of shaky camera moment, the image stilled, and focused at last on something moving in the distance.

Hermione's eyes squinted as she took a step closer to the screen and struggled to ascertain what was happening. Whomever was holding the camera was breathing quite heavily, and mumbling incoherently and frantically to themselves. Without realizing it, Hermione's heart began to quicken in her chest.

It didn't take a genius to understand that whomever was filming, was absolutely scared out of their wits.

The camera began to zoom, and Hermione could make out the faint outlines of trees - a forest, presumably, or somewhere certainly quite isolated. As she continued to quietly observe the scene, she soon saw a figure stooping over something - something lumpy and somewhat unnatural, and holding an oblong object in one hand. It must have been a full moon, because as the figure stood straight and righted himself, Hermione caught a glimpse of a shock of white-blond hair.

Stepping back; she gasped.

Harry said nothing, but stood closer still.

The blond figure was heaving the object, which Hermione soon discovered to be a shovel, and began to rip into the earth like wet flesh. There must have been tears streaming down the blond man's face, because even through the grainy film and the obvious distance of the two figures; Hermione could hear an awful, guttural sob that forced its way up from his lungs and out through his lips.

The blond man seemed completely unaware that he was being watched and began to cry loudly without shame; his sobs echoing noisily through the trees. But suddenly, a loud snap interrupted the scene, a dry twig traitorously breaking and revealing the hidden director.

"Oh, shit." The man filming said; and without warning, the camera moved into a fury - trees, rocks, ground, and sky, all whirling by like a child on carousel that was moving impossibly fast, as the man began to run frantically through the woods.

Breathing. Heavy breathing was all that could be understood. Hermione again took a tentative step closer to the screen, feeling vaguely as though she were watching some horror movie with her parents. And then the running man began to scream.

"No! Please! I'm sorry...I didn't mean anything! Please! Don't! Oh, shit!"

The voice was hysterical, mad, and so terrified that Hermione found herself shivering; the awful screams seeping into her very bones. Suddenly, the camera dropped roughly to the ground and focused on a nearby fallen leaf. But the running man's screams continued, though they were becoming fainter and fainter as he gained a greater distance. Hermione stared at the screen for a long moment, waiting for what - she wasn't sure, until she finally turned to Harry, carefully observing his expression.

"Not yet," he said gently. "It's almost...over."

With a raised eyebrow, Hermione turned back to the screen and the little leaf, as motionless and silent as a still-life painting. It took several minutes, but at last, in the far distance, Hermione could make out a sharp, anguished cry of pain; and then, nothing but silence.

She stood there breathing heavily, her mind trying to sort something out of the horrifying scene she had just witnessed. But it was too much to comprehend. It had been _years_ since she had dealt with anything remotely related to tracking down rogue Death Eaters. There was an infinite plethora of possible ideas floating around her head - each one as unlikely as the last.

Suddenly, she felt extremely inadequate.

After what seemed like an eternity, Harry flicked his wand at the screen and it went black. He, too, then lighted his wand, and looked carefully at Hermione.

"Hermione?" he asked, taking a step toward her.

She was silent and rigid, still facing the T.V., when she abruptly turned around and said, "I need to get out of this room."

Harry nodded, taking her by the upper arm, and carefully leading her out of the room and into the open, bright, hallway. She appeared slightly shaken, but in true Hermione fashion, quickly regained her composure. Looking straight into his emerald eyes, she whispered, "Malfoy."

Harry nodded. "Yes. Draco. I'm sure of it."

"But..." she stammered, "I don't understand. What was he doing in Germany? He was...crying, Harry."

"Shocking that the little ferret has feelings, isn't it?"

"He was burying something," Hermione continued, ignoring Harry's comment, as her eyes suddenly widened. "Or, _someone_," she amended, with a shudder.

"I tend to think it's the later. What I don't understand is why he wasn't using a wand."

Hermione bit her lip, a nervous habit that Harry found endearingly familiar. "That is strange."

Harry could tell by the pensive look on her face that there was more going through her mind than she was letting on. He was just about to press her on the matter, when William Buckley, himself, approached from behind Hermione.

"Good morning Harry. Hermione," he greeted politely.

They exchanged slightly awkward pleasantries until Buckley handed Hermione a small beige packet. "This is for you. Your travel paperwork is inside, along with a few other items of a tedious nature. You will be expected to hand a report into me when you return."

"Yes, sir."

Buckley nodded. "Good. I'm anxious to see what the pair of you uncover. Good luck."

And with that; he walked away.

Hermione watched him retreat down the hallway before turning back to Harry. "Not exactly the easiest man to talk to, is he?"

Harry chuckled. "You get used to him. He's just very precise and to the point. He doesn't, 'waste time forming social acquaintances', as he says. Speaking of which," he added as a new thought crossed him, "...how is everything with...Snape? I've been meaning to ask you."

Hermione felt her heart quicken in her chest without knowing why.

"Oh, Snape? Well, it's...I don't know. It's sort of...difficult to explain."

Harry raised an eyebrow as he began walking back the direction they had come. "Try me."

"Well," Hermione began as she took a few quick steps to catch up, "...he still mostly keeps to himself. Some might think he's brooding, but I think it's actually just more of his nature than anyone might realize. He's still unpleasant much of the time, but he hasn't once been unfair to the Gryffindors."

"Merlin," Harry said as he quickly grabbed his and Hermione's things from his office and closed the door. "Hell _has_ frozen over."

Hermione laughed softly and continued, "It's strange, really. He's not nearly as intimidating as he was before - though that could be because you and Ron made me paranoid the majority of the time. I've actually had...a few rather enjoyable conversations with him."

"Enjoyable conversations?" Harry asked as they reached the lift. "What about? I mean, don't get me wrong, Hermione. I'm on the man's side; it's just that I can't quite imagine _ever_ having an enjoyable conversation with him - given the past with my parents and all."

Hermione nodded and walked into the lift. "I understand that, Harry. I really do. Mostly we've just talked about Potions. But the thing is...he really is brilliant. I mean _brilliant_. And when he speaks to me it's like..."

"Like what?"

"I don't know. It's exhilarating - his mind banters back without a second thought."

Harry chuckled. "What? You mean that Ron and I weren't much of a challenge for you?"

Hermione blushed. "No, Harry. That's not what I meant. You and Ron are - "

"Dunderheads," he interrupted. "But the real question is," he pressed as he looked at her intently, savoring the drama for all it was worth. "Is he more brilliant than you?"

Hermione replied instantly. "Of course."

"Well Hermione Granger; it looks as though you've finally met your match."

* * *

Hermione's first opinion of the process of international apparation, was that it was just as tedious as going through security at a muggle airport. Her small overnight satchel was checked twice under two separate wands, and she was patted down rather uncomfortably by a middle age wizard who seemed to be having a much better time of it than she was.

Harry seemed to dislike it as well - though for entirely different reasons. Three separate witches that searched his robes couldn't quite seem to get enough of him.

"Oh my. It's Harry Potter!" One witch 'whispered' to her companion, though the whole department could have easily heard what she was saying. "He's even _better_ looking in real life than his pictures in the _Daily Prophet_!"

Once the two of them had reunited after the security check, Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but Harry cut her off quickly. "Don't you dare say anything, Hermione, or I'll hex you into next week."

Hermione smiled innocently. "I wasn't going to say anything at all. Though she was right - you do look better in real life."

"Shut up."

Hermione chuckled loudly to herself, much to Harry's agitation.

They finally both made their way to their separate apparation areas, and before Hermione knew it, she was standing with Harry in a loud atrium in Germany. Once their paperwork was checked and cleared, they made their way out of the crowded building and into a bustling street. It was strange to be in a new country with a different language. All around her, Hermione heard friends shouting to one another, businessmen chatting with one another, and she couldn't understand a single word coming from anyone's mouth.

It was obvious that they were in a muggle area, and Harry quickly took her by the wrist. "Come on, we need to get out of here before someone notices us."

Hermione nodded and followed him quickly. "How far away is the forest where Desh and Bowen found the tape?"

"Geographically it's quite a ways. But Desh drew me a map to the neatest isolated area, and as soon as we get there, we'll apparate."

Hermione obediently followed Harry, taking in her new surroundings as she did so. Whatever town they were in was incredibly charming. It was every bit the epitome of a small European town: narrow streets, wooden trusses on the outside of buildings, and steep roofs that met in a perfect "V" shape at the peak. The architecture appeared timeless. She didn't, however, have the luxury of time to gaze at her enamoring surrounds as Harry was quickly pulling her along down a small and narrow street that led to an open field.

"As soon as we cross the field and get into that small thicket of trees, we'll apparate," Harry said as he led her around a particularly precarious rock.

"Okay," Hermione said as she maneuvered around the object. "And, since we have a moment, have you thought about just what it is that we're going to do if we _do_ happen to run into Malfoy and his family?"

Harry continued to walk ahead of her, pulling her along like a disobedient child. "We'll figure that out when it comes to it."

"When it comes to it?" Hermione repeated mockingly as she struggled to keep up. "You mean, you don't have any sort of plan if we happen to bump into our dear old friend and his charming father? Honestly, Harry. We need _some_ sort of strategy."

"I don't think that it will come down to that," Harry replied. "At least while we're here this time, anyway. We're going to go in and gather information as we can, and hopefully report back to Buckley with something. I don't anticipate a show down with _Draco _and dear old daddy while we're here. We'd need an entire team of Aurors to successfully do that."

"Which was what I suggested back when we were at the Ministry," Hermione interjected.

Harry rolled his eyes and continued through the field. "There's something I've been thinking about Hermione," he said as he walked beside his friend. "About Malfoy, and him not using his wand."

"What of it?"

"Well, although Malfoy was an arrogant prat at school, and I thoroughly hate him with every fiber of my being; he never really had what it took to be a Death Eater. I mean, I saw it first hand; he was completely incapable of killing Dumbledore."

"Yes," Hermione agreed, "...but what does that have to do with him not having a wand?"

"Hear me out," he continued. "If he couldn't kill Dumbledore, I'm not so certain it's him behind the muggle attacks. Lucius, on the other hand, has always fit the type. He was Voldemort's right hand man for a long time, and killing a few defenseless muggles would be like child's play for him. So, maybe he's killing with Draco's wand just to cover his tracks, and that's why Draco didn't have a wand on the videotape."

Hermione looked ahead pensively. "Doesn't that seem like a bit of overkill, though? Lucius would have to know that despite whomever was responsible for the killings, that their entire family would be questioned. And a simple dose of Veritaserum would reveal the truth behind the killings, regardless."

Harry frowned. "Oh yeah. I hadn't thought about that."

"But I definitely think you're on the right track, Harry. Draco may have been a bully, but he wasn't a killer. At least," Hermione amended, "...he wasn't one seven years ago when the War ended. For all we know, he could have changed drastically during that time period. But Lucius...he's past all feeling. He never even flinched _once_ when I was being tortured at his house."

Harry stopped and looked at her. "Hermione..."

"No, Harry," Hermione said firmly. "I don't want to talk about that. But Lucius," she continued, "...has always been extremely calculating and cunning. He's a coward in every respect - taking whatever side profited him most at that particular time. But his penchant for the Dark Arts and his service to Voldemort...Harry, I don't believe for a second that he's not capable of doing something like this. His disgust of muggles and muggle-borns supercedes any remorse he could have possibly expressed to the Ministry."

"But my biggest question," Hermione continued as they made their way into the small thicket of trees, "...is why he felt it was necessary to relocate his family to a different country. Is it because he's planning something? Trying to resurrect the Death Eater organization? Whatever it is that he's doing here, Harry; it's not good."

Harry nodded in agreement. "And if he is planning on bringing the Death Eaters back to a powerful organization, we could be looking at another war."

Hermione shivered. "I just don't understand why he would lower himself to the killings, then. He must have known that it would have immediately drawn the attention of the Aurors."

"Well," Harry said as they paused by a young tree, "Maybe it _was_ Draco that was responsible for the killings, and Lucius taking his wand was merely a small form of retribution."

"That certainly would make sense," Hermione replied as she pulled her traveling cloak tighter around her.

Harry reached into his robes and fished out a rudimentary map that Desh had drawn for him. After studying it for a moment, he quickly folded it, returned it to his pocket and then brandished his wand. "We're going to side-along. I don't want to take any changes of us getting separated."

Though not throughly thrilled by the idea, Hermione walked over to Harry, deftly fishing her wand from her crimson robes. Harry took a step closer to her and put an arm around her waist. "You ready?"

"As ready as I can ever be when I side-along."

Without another word, Hermione felt the familiar compression close in on her as she was whisked away into nothingness.

They landed hard.

Hermione was gingerly rubbing her backside as Harry stood to offer her a hand. "Sorry," he apologized. "If I don't know exactly where I'm going, my landings tend to be a little rough."

"Thanks for the warning," she replied ruefully as she took his hand.

Brushing off her cloak, Hermione turned to see that they were in a thick forest, tall dark trees towering over them like giants. It wasn't unlike the Forbidden Forest, though Hermione could hear happy birds calling to one another, and branches moving as squirrels jumped and chased from tree to tree.

"Well, oh mighty Auror," Hermione said with a mock smile, "...what now?"

Harry shot her a reproving glance as he opened another small map. "This was approximately where Desh said they found the tape, so I suppose we just start looking around for anything out of the ordinary."

"Do you have your invisibility cloak?"

"Of course. We can both still fit if we need to."

Hermione nodded and cast a quick charm.

"What was that?"

"_Homenum Revelio_. I just wanted to make sure we're the only people around, which it seems to be. I didn't feel another presence when I cast the charm - well, besides you."

They searched for hours.

The cool afternoon sun slowly began to sink in the sky as the trees cast deep shadows behind them. Frustrated, Hermione sat down on a fallen tree, removed her boot, and gingerly rubbed the sole of her foot. "This is ridiculous, Harry. Desh must have drawn that map incorrectly because we've searched this entire area without so much as running into a deer."

Harry shrugged as he sat down beside her. "It needs to be done."

"Is this what you do all day long?" She asked exasperatedly. "Do you realize how many sixth year papers I could have graded in this amount of time?"

Harry laughed. "Sorry to disappoint, Hermione. But Auror work usually entails days just like this - a lot of leads with nothing that comes from them at the end of the day."

Hermione mumbled something to herself and retied her boot.

"I'll set up our tent," Harry offered. "I don't think we should be out wandering around once it gets dark - even if we haven't seen a damn thing all day."

"Our tent?"

"Yep," Harry replied cheerfully. "Just like the one we used when we were looking for Horcruxes. You can even have the top bunk."

"How very kind of you," Hermione said as she rolled her eyes.

Harry had the tent up in no time, and after Hermione had cast her muggle repelling charms and the like, she soon found herself taking comfort in a stack of blankets while Harry studiously observed Desh's map by wandlight.

"We're exactly where we should be," Harry said as he put on an extra pair of socks. "I can't believe that we didn't see anything today."

"Well, there's not much to be done for it now," Hermione said with a yawn, "I'm turning in. Do you think we should take turns keeping watch?"

"No," Harry said dismissively as he continued to study the map. "I'm a light sleeper - ask Ginny. I wake up at anything. Go ahead and sleep; I'm going to look at this for a bit longer, anyway."

Hermione didn't need to be told twice and quickly changed and climbed up the ladder to her bed. She must have been out the next minute, but the next thing she knew, it was completely dark around her and Harry was shaking her roughly.

"What?" She whispered, as her heart began to pound frantically.

"Don't move," Harry's voice whispered. "Someone's out there."

Hermione reached for her wand under her pillow and held perfectly still as Harry quietly climbed down the ladder and tip toed to the entrance of the tent. Without a sound, he lowered his body so he was completely flat on the ground and gently removed a tiny portion of the tent flap as he peered out into the darkness. After a moment he motioned to her to stay where she was and he quietly pulled his invisibility cloak around him.

Hermione was down the ladder and at his side within a few seconds, much to his angry dismay.

"What are you doing?" He demanded in a harsh whisper.

"I'm going with you, what did you think?"

"Stay here."

"Like hell I am. You drag me across several countries and tell me to stay in the tent? You know me better than that, Harry. I'm not letting you go alone."

"Dammit, Hermione!"

But a quiet movement several meters off silenced him, and he immediately threw the cloak over Hermione and covered her mouth with his hand. Hermione could feel his heart beating against her just as rapidly as her own was; the loud thumping seemed almost traitorous in the silence. After a moment, Harry stood, taking Hermione up with him as he rose, and they carefully exited the tent and into the cool night air. Hermione, who was wearing nothing but pajama pants and a tank top; shivered.

They both listened intently, quietly maneuvering around a large group of trees and stopped. They stood and shivered for close to a half an hour before Harry whispered into Hermione's ear. "It's freezing, come on. Whoever it was, they're long gone."

Hermione nodded, her teeth chattering. As Harry took a step forward, Hermione's foot was still on the hem of the cloak and when Harry moved toward the tent, Hermione's footing was completely thrown from beneath her, and she flew forward; her face making painful contact with a low tree branch that resonated through her entire skull.

She wanted to scream out, but bit her lip to the point where it actually drew blood. She knew her fall had elicited a loud sound and soon Harry was literally lying on top of her, covering the both of them with the invisibility cloak.

"What happened?" He whispered. "Are you okay?"

She shook her head, not daring herself to speak, and remained motionless on the cold forest floor. After several moments of silence, Harry stood, taking Hermione with him, and quietly maneuvered her back to the tent. The moment they were within the confines of the tent, Harry immediately cast a silencing charm.

"Hermione," Harry said as he lighted his wand. "Let me see your face."

Slowly, she turned to face him.

"Bloody hell," Harry gasped as he observed a deep gash across Hermione's left cheek. It was easily several centimeters long and Harry wagered it was equally as deep. Suddenly, his expression grew angry. "This wouldn't have happened if you would have just stayed in the tent."

Instantly, Hermione flared to life. "I think a small cut on my face is fair payment if you would have gone out there and been captured, killed, or whatever that person was wanting to do! Whomever they were, they were up to no good, Harry. No one goes sneaking around the forest in the middle of the night, so don't you _dare_ turn this on me."

Harry's anger immediately dissipated, though he couldn't turn his gaze away from the bloody gash. "I would heal it," he said helplessly, "...but I tend to leave scars...I wouldn't trust myself to do that to your face. Do you think you'll be okay until tomorrow?"

Hermione tentatively brought her hand to her face, wincing as she brushed her cheek. "I'll be fine. Do you think you could try to clean it up a little? I don't want to get blood all over the pillow."

Harry quietly obliged to the task, siphoning the excess blood that was staining her pale cheek. "I don't know, Hermione. This really should be taken care of tonight. I think we should leave."

Hermione waved her hand dismissively at him. "I'll be fine, Harry. We have a job to do, and I'm not going to disappoint Buckley on my first real assignment. We still have another day of work here."

"But we've already done our job, haven't we? We didn't find any clues to the Malfoys, but someone is obviously searching the area, and that could be all Buckley needs."

"Don't patronize me, Harry," Hermione said fiercely. "You know as well as I that Buckley won't be satisfied unless he knows _who_ it was that was wandering around out there."

"Then you go back," Harry pressed, "And I'll stay here and see what I can uncover."

Hermione shook her head. "No. I'm not leaving you alone, Harry. You said it yourself earlier today - everyone's on the buddy system."

"I'll be fine, Hermione," Harry urged, his eyes still scanning her cheek. "If you don't get that properly taken care of you might have a scar for the rest of your life."

"I'm not as vain as Ginny is, Harry. That won't work with me."

"I'm being serious, Hermione," he said as he brought his face closer to hers and squinted in observation. "It's really deep. You need a Healer."

Hermione sighed. "If anything happened to you because I left, I would never be able to forgive myself."

Harry nodded. "I know. But I'll be fine. It's almost dawn. I'll just poke around a bit longer and then return to England."

Hermione looked at him uncertainly. "Promise me, Harry. Promise me that you'll just look around a bit longer, and then you'll come home. I won't leave unless you give me your word."

He looked at her sincerely. "I promise, Hermione."

She scrutinized his face for a moment until he cried exasperatedly, "Merlin, would you like an Unbreakable Vow? I'll only be awhile longer. I promise."

Her expression must have relented because Harry was quickly picking up her things before she had time to object. Too tired to do anything else, Hermione merely wrapped her traveling cloak around her pajamas, not bothering to change. A moment later, Harry stood in front of her, handing her a satchel.

"Go ahead and just apparate straight to St. Mungo's - or Hogwarts, if you think Madame Pomfrey might be better."

Hermione nodded her head, her face hurting too much to argue, and she quickly and fiercely embraced her friend. "Send an owl to me the _moment_ you get back to England."

"I will."

And with that, she turned on the spot and apparated back to England.

* * *

She didn't know why she was doing it.

There really was no logic in it. And if someone had asked her, she would have never of been able to given them a legitimate answer. So she merely stood quietly on the threshold to the private quarters of Severus Snape, ready to knock on the stone relief at four in the morning. She was silently wondering if the blow to her face had damaged some part of her brain.

_He healed my finger without a trace of a scar._

That was her rationalization. If he had healed her finger without any notice that a cut had ever been there; she was confident that he could heal the gash on her face.

But why didn't she just go and see Poppy?

_Too many damn stairs, for one thing._

_Though the stairs might be nice in comparison to the awkwardness of standing at Snape's private quarters in the middle of the night._

Making up her mind, she knocked quietly.

_Too late._

It only took a few seconds before she heard muffled footfalls behind the stone wall. And a few seconds after that, the relief bent in on itself and she was suddenly standing face to face with Severus Snape.

She had recited a small, rather pathetic speech in her mind four separate times before she knocked and was just about to rehearse it, when Snape's face went from annoyance to concern in the blink of an eye.

"What happened?" He demanded.

"I..,"

She must have looked pathetic, standing in a tank top and pajamas that were only covered by a greatly disheveled traveling cloak. She was quite certain that her hair was a rat's nest, and the blood trickling down her cheek probably didn't add to her beauty at the moment, either.

But he had already taken her by the wrist and was pulling her behind him into the dark room. As he sat her gently on the familiar sofa, Hermione felt an odd sensation of deja vu. He quickly summoned his chair with his wand and sat down in front of her, his dark eyes looking her over intently until they finally rested on the deep gash on her face.

"What happened?" He asked again. This time his voice was gentle, soft - almost as though he didn't trust himself to speak aloud.

Incomprehensibly shy of the bleeding gash on her cheek, Hermione found herself turning her head and looking at him from an odd angle. She soon realized she was being ridiculous, _didn't I come here for the very reason of him healing it?_, and looked him full in the face.

"Well, I...,"

_I tripped over an invisibility cloak and smacked my face into a tree branch._

"There was a noise...I was startled...and I fell."

She watched him silently as he leaned forward and took her face in his hands, well clear of the tender spot, and brought his head down level with hers. She was ashamed to find hot tears welling up the moment his hands gently cradled her head. Closing her eyes, she felt his breath on her face; cool and fresh.

When she opened her eyes, he was regarding her intently and something stirred in his eyes - something incomprehensible, but something real. It was a massive shift; the curtain lifted, and Hermione was looking at him as though for the first time.

It was a change.

He swallowed and returned his gaze to her injured cheek. "Anywhere else? Is there anything else?"

Hermione shook her head beneath his hands. "No. I was hoping that you could...that is...that day at Grimmauld Place...and my finger..."

He took his hand and put it to her mouth, the pads of his fingertips nearly touching her lips. "Shhh...," he said gently. "Try not to move."

Hermione nodded her head slightly and Snape brought his ebony wand close to her face, took her chin with his free hand, and quietly murmured to himself as a brilliant flash of azure light erupted from his wand. She flinched and recoiled from the brightness of the light, but his hand steadied her, and Hermione could feel a warm, tingling sensation on her cheek as the light slowly dimmed.

Suddenly, it was all too much - the lack of sleep, her shaking body, and the throbbing in her cheek. She closed her eyes for a moment and felt dizzy. When she opened them again, the room appeared to be spinning, and her last consciousness thought before the blackness consumed her completely was of Snape speaking her name.

"Hermione."

* * *

_A/N: WOAH! A long chapter; I know. I hope you all survived. I really did try to break it into two parts...but it just didn't quite fit. Plus, I really needed the bit with Snape at the end. :) As always, please take a moment and leave your thoughts. Do you like longer chapters? Shorter chapters? Or any other comments in general - I simply live for them. I must give credit to the grave digging scene and description to the wonderful author, Harlan Coben, from his novel, The Woods. Try it; you'll like it; it's a great read. Also, the opening sentence sequence is from the brilliant mind of Tandrelmairon. Thanks for the reviews so far! Let me know if I should keep going!_


	8. Chapter 8

_"A ship is safe in harbor, but that's not what ships are for._"

- William Shedd

* * *

**Chapter 8: The Next Step**

* * *

He stood there watching her for a long time.

For how long; he wasn't certain. But the rise and fall of her chest - steady, rhythmic, and constant, was almost hypnotically comforting. He observed the plain beauty of her face - so unlike anything he had crossed before in his otherwise solitary life. It was effortless, striking, and real. But his eyes could not be easily drawn from the deep gash. He frowned as he surveyed the two little white bandages that were holding the skin together.

She had said that she had fallen. But what in Merlin's name had she been doing? Had she found the Malfoys? His brow furrowed deeply at the thought. If she had, indeed, crossed that particular family; she was lucky to have escaped with a mere cut on her face.

But there was another more pressing matter that needed to be confronted.

When he had first heard the light knocking on his door; he had been annoyed - even angry. But the moment he saw Herm - _Professor Granger_, standing pathetically beyond the threshold, looking for all the world like a stray dog who had just gained the courage to seek shelter from a foreboding stranger; something had lurched in his heart.

And that fact disturbed him more than Horace Slughorn's colorful new wardrobe.

He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. _That_ part of him had long since been ensconced - buried; never to be harrowed up again. It wasn't a conscience effort. It was merely what his heart had allowed. The years following Lily's murder had been empty and meaningless; and the only thing that had kept one foot in front of the other had been his promise to Dumbledore.

And he would _not_ allow her murder to have been in vain.

But Hermione Granger - that annoying, incessant child that had never given him a moment's peace for six excruciating years, had stirred something within him that he could not place. Granted, the past months since his return to teaching had proven she was an accomplished woman - not nearly as infuriating as she had been in her formative years; and he had been strangely surprised to find that her company, while encroaching somewhat on his cherished solitude, had been refreshing.

She was still as inquisitive and eager as he remembered, but she showed restraint and maturity. And her mind, oh Merlin, her _mind_. Astonishingly intelligent; she was the student every professor dreamt of, but never found. She was focused and driven, and she could now met his eyes without the slightest hesitation - though _that_ particular gesture had perplexed him as much as anything.

Minerva McGonagall still had a difficult time meeting his gaze for an extended period of time.

At Grimmauld Place, she had shied away from him, barely glancing in his direction; but she had grown bold and comfortable in his presence and had appeared strangely fascinated by his eyes. He noted, irrelevantly, that when she did meet his gaze, she became intensely focused.

And he could still not understand the unexplained protectiveness he felt for her.

When he had seen her floundering across the grounds, so evidently in pain, he had felt an almost twisted kinship with her. A shared grief. And the need to diminish the pain she was enduring was as overwhelming as the newly kilned flames under a cauldron. He had endured that particular agony before - and _no one_ should have to suffer as he had.

The duel had been rash. _Potteresque_, if you will. And while he did not doubt her skill with a wand, he had felt an odd pressure in his chest as she had bowed low to Baer. Clutching his wand tightly in his right hand; Snape had been ready to intervene at a moment's notice.

And the angry gash across her flawless face had confirmed the previous strange sensations. His heart had begun to pound wildly in his chest when he saw her, as his mind pondered the things named and nameless that could have happened to her. And as she lay there peacefully on his sofa next to the burning hearth; he quietly berated himself that there was not more that could be done for the wound.

_Careful, Severus. You're playing with fire._

Her current choice of clothing was an interesting spectacle to behold, as well. The slight curves of her body were far too pronounced in her informal sleeping attire, and he had carefully adjusted the position of her traveling cloak around her midsection as he began to become increasingly uncomfortable.

Pulling his own cloak around him tightly, Snape walked closer to the hearth, feeling the warmth of the flames radiating on his face. She was a brilliant equal, he decided. Nothing more. His concern for her wellbeing was the same concern he would feel if Minerva were laying there before him. It was his duty and responsibility to look after those in his care, and she had become an apprentice of sorts - brewing and learning from him each night. It would be no different than if she were Minerva.

Certainly. No difference at all.

It was when he had reached that conclusion, that she began to stir.

* * *

When Hermione opened her eyes, she felt vaguely as though she had been beaten repeatedly in the head by a Bludger. Gingerly, she licked her lip which had cracked slightly from where she had physically restrained herself from screaming; but beyond her current discomfort and the throbbing ache of her face - she felt surprisingly warm.

Her cloak was wrapped neatly around her body, purposefully and meticulously placed. She was laying, once again, on the comfortable black sofa with her legs stretched out carelessly over the cushions. The last thing she could recall before she blacked out was Snape's anxious face as he said her name.

Her _real_ name.

Unconsciously, a small smile crept over her lips. But in her current state, she was too tired to deal with any of the implications that could be laced there - and of course, she wasn't entirely sure she hadn't been hallucinating at the time.

He was standing by the hearth, the flames reflecting across his pale face. He seemed to have sensed her alertness, for the moment she turned to look at him; he took two great strides in her direction and hovered quietly above her.

"Drink this," he instructed; handing her a small phial.

It took her a moment to extricate her arm, but she eventually succeeded and took the token from him without question, quickly pressing the liquid to her lips.

He raised a dark eyebrow. "Not questioning the contents of a strange drink? The Aurors would be greatly disappointed."

Hermione shrugged her shoulders - a truly pitiful sight, as she was still partly restrained from the oddly tucked cloak. "I trust you."

Snape regarded her quietly, sitting once more in the familiar chair just out of arm's reach. "Indeed."

The liquid was bitter; a bland and tepid mixture. But Hermione soon felt the drink's effects and the throbbing in her cheek began to slowly subside. She lay there watching him intently; his stoic posture, set jaw, and, as always - his ever fascinating eyes, until she suddenly felt the urge to explain herself.

_Sorry that I passed out on your sofa - again._

"I...well, thank you," she said lamely as she gestured to her cheek. "I know I could have gone and seen Poppy, but..."

_But what?_

_I thought you wouldn't mind a little late night chat?_

By all accounts, she _should_ have gone and seen Poppy. She knew that. But as she staggered through the main entrance of Hogwarts the previous night, it was almost as if her body was being pulled toward the dungeons - to Snape. It wasn't a conscience decision. Somehow, strangely, over the previous months, he had become a quiet constant in her life - an unintentional source of security. And despite having healed her finger that night at Grimmauld Place; Hermione had been the one to seek _him_.

There really was no, '_but_'.

And so she wasn't quite sure how to continue; but Snape, perhaps sensing her discomfort, stepped in and saved her her embarrassment. "What happened?" He asked quietly.

Hermione looked at him curiously. He was regarding her in his perfect, quiet stillness. His eyes were intense and focused as they swept over her face - looking for what, she wasn't quite sure. She hesitated as she began to speak. As an Auror, she had sworn that she would keep all department matters confidential unless given explicit permission. But, oh Merlin, how she _longed_ to speak with him and wrestle with his mind to hear what insights he might have on the matter. With his past connection to the Malfoy family, she was confident that he would easily be one step ahead of where she and Harry currently were.

But upon remembering her oath to the Auror Department, she reluctantly paused.

He must have sensed her hesitation and known the reasoning behind it, because he raised a dark eyebrow and pressed, "If I can be the first and accept your trust to not speak of the illegal potion I have been brewing in the very dungeons of Hogwarts; then I would assume you could, in turn, place that same trust in myself."

Hermione stared at him in surprise.

"Did you not just mention this very thing when you drank what I gave you without asking?"

She blinked - two, three, four, times. "Of course I trust you," she assured him. "I just...well...," she paused. "Ever since I've learned what was happening with...with the Malfoys, I've been wanting to speak you. This," she gestured around her, as if emphasizing the magnitude of their situation, "...is bigger than Harry and myself or the entire Auror Department," she paused and met his dark eyes fiercely. "It's potentially bigger than us all."

His eyes widened slightly at her revelation, which was, to Hermione's recollection, the most surprised she had ever seen him. But he quickly regained his composure. "What have you learned?"

And so she told him everything.

She told him of her excursion to Germany, the terrifying tape she had seen in the Ministry and the implications it held, the mysterious muggle deaths, and finally; she told him of the disturbing stranger that had been wandering around the remote German forest in the middle of the night. She explained Harry's theory of Draco's missing wand, her own reluctance to believe that Draco had at last turned into the monster that was his father, and her own theories on everything she had witnessed.

He watched her quietly as she spoke. The attention he gave her was genuine and real; and he carefully considered everything she said while she divulged her own speculations. When she paused and waited for his response; he gave her a grim smile.

"I fear you are correct in your assumption. This is a matter that is greater than one individual person. If Lucius is, in fact, attempting to resurrect the Death Eaters; the Order of the Phoenix must be informed and ready at a moment's notice."

Hermione nodded her agreement but appeared slightly hesitant.

"What is it?" Snape asked.

She swallowed and bit her split lip. "When I was at Grimmauld Place...the night you found me when I had cut my finger...there was a crack in the glass of the second story window - almost as though someone had tried to break in. But I don't understand how that could be possible unless..."

"Someone in the Order is a traitor," Snape finished for her. His deep voice resonated powerfully with the implications of the words.

Hermione nodded. "Yes."

Snape frowned, closed his eyes, and pinched the bridge of his nose. "It would have to be someone that was a member at the time of...," he trailed off and looked somberly toward the burning hearth. "...at the time of Dumbledore's death."

The fire crackled in the silence around them for several moments. At length, Snape turned and looked at her, his eyes momentarily flashing to the cut on her cheek. "Have you mentioned this to Minerva?"

Hermione shook her head. "No. You're the first I've told. It actually...slipped my mind," she concluded with embarrassment.

If he had thought of any snide comments to bait her with about the foolishness of letting something potentially that important go unnoticed; he must have quietly restrained himself. "Order meetings," Snape concluded darkly, "...are out of the question until the traitor has been uncovered. Minerva, however, should be made aware of what has happened."

Hermione hesitated slightly, "But if the Aurors found out I have said anything...,"

Snape's eyes narrowed. "You would put your trust in me and not the Headmistress?"

Hermione shook her head vigorously, dizzying herself in the process. "No, of course not. It's not that. I trust her with my life. It's just that...well, it seems that if too many people know something - even good people, honest people - that sometimes things get out...unintentionally." She swallowed and shifted uncomfortably under her cloak. "Hagrid...might be a good example of that..."

Snape regarded her until a smile played over his thin lips. "I do believe, Professor Granger, that you might be as entirely paranoid as I, myself, am."

As Hermione stared at him, she suddenly found herself disappointed.

_Professor Granger?_

_What happened to 'Hermione'?_

"But I can assure you," Snape was continuing, "...that Minerva is more apt to keep your confidence than perhaps," he raised an eyebrow and looked at her significantly, "...others with just as noble intentions. You have nothing to fear."

Hermione nodded, though still slightly disappointed for something that she couldn't quite place. When she looked at him directly, she saw that his attention was once again focused on the dancing flames of the fire. After a moment he said quietly, "While I do share your hope for Draco, I fear that it may be a lost cause."

It took a moment for her mind to understand where he was going. "But surely," she pressed, "...after everything that happened in my sixth year, that it might be proof enough that he did not wish to be involved in their cause."

Again, they were referring to Dumbledore without actually referring to Dumbledore.

Her brain hurt with the strange intricacies of it all.

Snape glanced away from the fire and looked her fully in the face. "It is possible that at the time he still could have been swayed. But living with Lucius for so many years without any other influence would be enough to corrupt him, or anyone who might have been walking that already thin line, for that matter. And as you well know, even as a boy, Draco was never innocent. That darkness has always been within him, waiting for him to embrace it fully - or to turn away completely."

Hermione pushed herself into a sitting position and looked into the hypnotic flames as they licked upward. "There is darkness looming within everyone," she said, more to herself than anything else. "The world isn't just divided into Death Eaters and heroes."

Snape smiled again softly. There was almost a fondness laced in his voice as he said, "Not so naive after all."

She looked at him with a shy smile and then remembered herself. "I guess I just don't understand the point and purpose of what they're trying to accomplish."

Snape scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Lucius was much like his deranged sister-in-law. He was a true believer. Not out of fear - though that certainly played a part; but he loved and served unceasingly. It shook him deeply when he learned of Voldemort's true blood status. His prejudices have always been deeply rooted, and if he is now trying to gather followers for what he surely views as a secret group of _vigilantes_ to rid the world of 'unclean' blood, then the Ministry will more than likely have a full uprising on their hands."

"You think that this is only about blood supremacy, and nothing at all to do with some strange tribute to Voldemort?" Hermione asked as she began to play with a loose edge to one of her bandages.

Snape nodded. "Lucius' mind is warped and twisted. I doubt he cares anything at all for the past master he once served so faithfully."

Hermione stared again at the fire as she continued to pick at her bandage. Before she even knew it was happening, Snape's hand was over hers and he was gently lowering it to her lap. "Don't," he admonished softly. "I've done as much magic as I dare on a cut of that depth. The bandages should hold the skin together well enough to minimize any potential scarring."

"Oh," she sputtered, feeling foolish. And then she added before she could keep her tongue in check, "Though, I've never really been one to care much for my own appearance."

He granted her another one of his soft smiles. "The same can be said of me, of course. Though," he added as his eyes shifted in thought, "...some of your previous classmates were more than exuberant in pointing that fact out."

Hermione couldn't help it; she laughed out loud. "We're quite the pair, you and I, aren't we?"

He regarded her in quiet wonder. His eyes, she noted irrelevantly, appeared to be smiling. She returned the gesture with a genuine flash of her teeth until she suddenly went rigid on the couch and her eyes widened to the size of her fist.

"What's wrong?" Snape asked anxiously, leaning forward to grab her arm, but thinking better of it.

"Harry," she whispered. "What time is it?"

Snape made a counterclockwise motion with his wand and replied, "Just after three."

"In the afternoon?" Hermione ejaculated. "While I was passed out, did an owl come? A black owl?" She was speaking frantically, rapidly - tripping over her own words.

Snape frowned. "I have not seen one. Though I have not left the confines of my quarters...," he trailed off, "I wasn't sure you should be left unattended."

Hermione was quickly trying to extricate herself from her tightly tucked robe and attempted to stand at the same time.

"What are you doing?" Snape asked crossly. "The potion I gave you will cause dizziness. You need to stay lying down."

Hermione appeared not to have heard him and continued to rise from the sofa until Snape placed his hands firmly on her bare shoulders and gently lowered her down to the couch. "You don't understand," Hermione was saying. "Harry told me that he would send an owl. I left him there. _Left _him. Someone was in the woods...and if something happened to him...,"

"Stay here," Snape instructed. "I will go check the owlery and your quarters. I...will need your password," he added, uncomfortably.

Hermione shook her head and rose once more. "The wards would take ages to bring down without me. I've already wasted enough time."

Snape frowned. "Fine. I will go to the owlery and meet you at your quarters. The owl is black?"

Hermione nodded. "Completely. There isn't another color on him. But it's also possible that Harry used a Ministry owl. I just don't know...,"

He walked slowly with her to the door, his hand on the small of her back, steadying her. "Walk slowly. If you feel the slightest bout of dizziness, stop where you are and sit down. I will come and find you in Gryffindor Tower."

Hermione blinked rapidly and then nodded, heading for the spiral stairs that ascended infinitely upward.

The stairs were endless, and Snape, of course, had been right about the dizziness. Every twenty steps or so, she would have to sit on a stone stair, put her head between her knees, and breathe heavily. But she eventually made it to the Tower, and with an urgent rapidity undid the wards. Bursting through the entrance ungracefully, Hermione's eyes scanned her neatly kept quarters.

"Kobic?"

Walking through an archway that led to her small office, Hermione's eyes immediately went to her leather chair - the personal favorite of her black owl. But it was empty; and all that remained were several talon scratches across the top of the chair along with a few down feathers messily scattered across the floor.

"Kobic?" She called again, "Are you here?"

But it was silent; and Crookshanks' cataract lidded eyes were the only thing that acknowledged her presence. With a dreadful dawn of realization, she quickly strode into her bedroom, extracted her emerald robe from her oak cabinet, and quickly changed. With a deft flick of her wand, her hair resolved itself into a wild bun. Grabbing her traveling cloak, she briskly entered the main chamber of her quarters - only to find Severus Snape standing there with a slightly nervous expression on his face.

He looked up when she entered and offered somewhat awkwardly. "Your door was open...,"

Hermione waved her hand dismissively as she fastened her cloak around her neck. When she looked up at Snape, he was glancing curiously around her little den. As he caught her observing him, he blushed slightly - a truly strange sight, and supplied, "There were no black owls in the owlery. I didn't notice any others that had anything addressed to yourself, either."

Hermione felt her heart forcing itself out of her throat.

_Oh, Harry. If something's happened to you..._

She nodded, gave him a small smile of gratitude, and quickly strode past him to the door. She had almost crossed the threshold when a strong hand grabbed her upper arm, gently but firmly, and held her steady.

"I will go," Snape said quietly, his eyes dark and intense.

Hermione shook her head. "No. I have to go. I don't know where Harry and I exactly were; and he has the only map, so I can't show you where to apparate."

Snape scowled. "Damn him and his Gryffindor foolishness."

Hermione offered a weak smile. "Well, that _is_ what we're known for."

And then she walked across the threshold and began to descend the stairs. After a few moments she heard his quiet footfalls behind her. Turning around to face him from a few steps down, she regarded him curiously.

"I'm coming with you," he stated simply.

Like the night in Godric's Hollow, Hermione felt something constrict in her heart. It was something new - a dawning awakening. She regarded him in silent awe and wonder. "You've done more than enough in all this," she said helplessly as she gestured around them. "...more than should ever be asked of one person. I cannot ask you to come with me."

He descended quickly, standing one step above her, and subsequently towering over her. "You did not ask me. And I am coming."

He watched for her reaction. And then she smiled at him; so heart-stoppingly beautiful that he nearly lost his balance on the stairs. In that moment, he had no doubt of her sincerity.

Without explanation, his heart quickened in his chest.

They quickly descending the stairs and out into the blustery Sunday afternoon. The clouds were scattered, but the wind whipped viciously around them as they made their way across the grounds. Once they reached the apparation point, Hermione looked at Snape hesitantly. Summoning her courage, she reached out for him, linking her arm with his own.

"Ready?" She asked, looking up to meet his face.

When he nodded, she turned on the spot, and with a resounding _crack_; they disappeared from sight.

The air in Germany was heavy. Through the towering trees of the forest, Hermione looked up and saw thick, pregnant clouds that hung low in the sky - the very branches of the trees seeming to puncture them. The wind here was fierce, as it had been at Hogwarts. When she turned to Snape, he was already busily casting charms and incantations. He approached her quickly once he had completed the task. "There isn't anyone in the immediate vicinity. Are you certain this is where you were?"

Hermione looked at their surroundings uncertainly. "This was where we apparated, but I think we headed south for sometime before we set up camp. It was dark at the time, so...I'm not entirely certain."

Snape looked southward as his black cloak billowed intimidatingly around him. "South, then."

He had begun walking before he finished speaking, and Hermione had to jog to keep up with him. They pressed on in silence, the clouds rumbling deeply overhead and threatening to break open at any given moment. As they continued, Hermione suddenly stopped in her tracks and looked to her left at a small brook that ran from the mountains.

"I think we're getting close," she offered as explanation, when Snape turned to see why she stopped. "I remember the brook."

She spotted a small clearing up ahead, and without a warning to Snape, broke into a sprint as she caught a glimpse of the side of their traveling tent. Brandishing her wand, the heavens burst open at last, and she ran to the tent with Snape hot on her heels. It took nearly all the restraint she possessed to not call out for Harry. It was defying every instinct she ever had. But Hermione knew that she hadn't fully considered every aspect of their situation, and therefore could not shout Harry's name. She would not risk potentially putting him into more danger.

She was pulling the flap of the tent backwards when Snape grabbed her by the shoulder and pulled her back. "I will go first."

"Why?" Hermione retorted in a loud whisper as the rain began to mercilessly fall.

He didn't deem to respond, but instead entered the tent with Hermione directly behind him. A quick survey of the interior revealed that Harry was not in the tent. Hermione cursed loudly as she threw Harry's pillow across the expanse of the room. "Dammit! Where is he?"

Needing to do anything but stand still, she flew out of the tent and into the tumultuous storm. Snape was following her in a flash. "What are you doing?" He demanded over the cracking, thunderous clouds.

"I've got to find him," Hermione said desperately. "This is _my _fault."

"Don't be ridiculous," Snape snapped as he grabbed her arm to restrain her. "We need a plan of action. Running around the forest in this weather isn't going to get anything accomplished."

Hermione pulled away from him and attempted to shrug off his grasp. "I have to do _something_," she retorted. "I will not let him pay for _my_ actions."

Snape grabbed a hold of both of her shoulders as her hair began to cling together and as her cloak began to shed the water droplets. "Stop acting foolish," he spat. "You are above that unfortunate tradition of your House. You will _not_ help Potter by running into something that could get yourself killed."

She was yelling incoherently at him when a sudden movement out of the corner of his eye caused Snape to wrap a firm hand around Hermione's mouth and pull her to the ground. She instantly stilled within his grasp as they landed hard and clutched her wand tightly as the small veins on her hand stood out with prominence. From her position face down in the mud, she couldn't make out what was happening. But Hermione soon heard the footsteps Snape had sensed. Slowly, she tilted her head for a better view.

A pair of black boots stopped not far from where they lie. Clenching her wand, Hermione felt Snape's own grasp on her body tighten. She then felt him shift slightly, until his mouth was touching her ear. "Lie still," he whispered. "Do not move."

She barely nodded, but the movement must have been enough to satisfy him. She felt the warmth of his breath leave her cheek as he moved around her. The boots were closer now, only a few yards beyond the thicket she and Snape were hiding in. If _only_ she could position her wand to where she could silently stun the figure. But a movement like that, even through the pounding rain and howling wind, would draw attention; and her wand was pinned to her side - facing the complete opposite direction.

She swallowed thickly, a curse on the edge of her tongue; and then the figure stopped directly in front of her. She could see the thick mud that was caked over the black leather, the untied laces that had begun to fray at the edges, and most frightening of all; she could hear the figure's shallowing breathing as he loomed directly above her.

Snape was beside her, though she wasn't sure what he was waiting for. They still had the element of surprise - even if it would take her a moment to draw her wand. With her heart pounding loudly as the rain splattered across her face, Hermione made her move. Snape must have sensed her muscle units firing against him, because in one swift movement, he had grabbed her, rolled so that he was now between herself and the mysterious figure, and began to cast a stunning spell.

But before he could finish the spell, he abruptly stopped himself.

Hermione rapidly moved her wet hair from her eyes and drew her wand. Her mouth fell open as she barely managed to keep her magic in check.

The figure before them was Harry Potter.

"Harry!" Hermione cried as she struggled to stand. The mud had created a thick layer on her cloak and she was slow in her ascent. Snape, however, managed to fare better than she did, and was on his feet before she completed the task.

"Harry! What happened? Are you alright?"

He appeared dazed, and to Hermione's dismay, there was a thin trail of red trickling down from his hairline and onto his forehead.

"Hermione?" Harry asked. He regarded her with confusion and reached awkwardly to touch her face.

"Potter," Snape said, stepping forward. "Do you know where you are? Do you understand what I'm saying?"

He looked at them strangely for a moment, and then the haze over his emerald eyes seemed to clear. "Hermione?" He asked again, his eyes struggling to focus on her face. "I thought you went home?"

"He's delirious," Snape said, taking a step toward Harry and reluctantly grabbing both of his upper arms. "We need to get him back to that tent." He looked over his shoulder, eyes narrowed; daring any perpetrators to show themselves.

Hermione nodded and led the way as Snape guided Harry over the somewhat precarious topography, until they at last reached the tent. With a deft flick of her wand, the tent flap folded back in on itself, and Hermione stood back for Snape and Harry to enter. Snape, however, shook his head, and motioned for Hermione to enter first, which she did - though somewhat grudgingly.

Conjuring a modest chair, Snape sat Harry down and stood back to scrutinize him. "Speak, Potter."

Harry shook his head to clear the cobwebs as he looked back and forth between Hermione and Snape. "Hermione?" He asked, momentarily ignoring Snape as he gingerly rubbed the side of his head. "What are you doing here?" His eyes went directly to her cheek. "I told you to go home."

Hermione folded her arms across her chest. "And _I _told _you_ to do the same, Harry. What happened? You were supposed to head back to England and owl me."

Harry was regarding Snape, likely contemplating how the three of them came to be in this particular circumstance. "I...I was just getting ready to pack up," he said as he removed his glasses and attempted to clean them on his cloak. The cloak, however, was dirtier than his glasses were. "I heard someone outside the tent, so I drew my wand and threw the invisibility cloak over me. It only took a minute or so...and then I saw him."

Hermione's eyes widened, but Snape beat her to the question. "Saw _who_, Potter?"

"Someone in a Death Eater's cloak. It was raining at the time; he must have heard my footsteps...and seen the rain shedding off the cloak, because we drew our wands at exactly the same moment."

Hermione waited anxiously on the tips of her toes until he finally concluded, "We must have stunned each other at the same time. I remember firing off the spell, and nothing more - just blackness. I only just came to when I saw the both of you in the mud..."

"Do you still have your wand?" Snape asked tersely.

Harry subconsciously patted his cloak. "Yes."

"How fortunate," Snape scoffed. "Your luck never seems to run out, does it, Potter?"

"And what exactly are you doing here, anyway?" Harry asked angrily, though his gaze shifted to Hermione. "He shouldn't be here. You and I could _both_ be fired, Hermione."

"He's not going to say anything, Harry," Hermione admonished as she took a step between the two of them. "If anything, we could use his help on this."

"That's irrelevant," Harry pressed. "He's not an Auror."

"Well, Potter," Snape spat, "...you can thank yourself for that, and yourself alone. If you had returned to England at the appointed time, Her - _Professor Granger_ would not have felt the need to return to your aid; and I would still be contently sitting by my hearth at Hogwarts."

Harry raised a dark brow. "What does _Hermione_ have to do with _you_ coming here?"

Hermione blushed slightly and said in a soft voice as she looked at her muddied feet, "He was the one that healed my cheek, Harry. He...he knew."

Harry's emerald eyes were darting back and forth between Hermione and Snape, trying to ascertain what exactly was going on.

"It's a moot point, anyway," Hermione concluded rather quickly. "What's done is done, and Professor Snape isn't going to tell anyone."

Harry looked at Snape for a long moment - green eyes meeting black, until he nodded and put his palm to his forehead. Hermione walked over to him, her cloak dripping mud as she went. She bent and gingerly edged her fingers into his black hair, searching for the source of the cut. She found it at last as a layer of dried blood rubbed onto her fingers. Pulling her wand from her cloak, she brought it to his forehead and hesitated. She paused and turned her head, her soft sorrel eyes seeking Snape; and without speaking a single word, he knew what she wanted of him.

And so he walked forward slowly, his voluminous robes thick and heavy with water. He stopped in front of Harry, though his eyes were locked on Hermione. At length, he turned from her, drew his wand, and placed it before a very confused looking Harry. As the ebony wand drew closer to flesh, Harry's eyes widened in fear. But when he cast a glance in Hermione's direction; she nodded reassuringly at him.

A few seconds and a bright flash of light later, Harry's forehead was once again it's normal ivory color, minus the slight red of his lightening shaped scar. When he reached up to feel for the wound and found nothing, he looked up at Snape and awkwardly offered, "Thanks."

Snape nodded curtly and turned to Hermione, who was smiling quietly to herself.

"We should go," he said.

Hermione's eyes met his. Standing there quietly, she finally nodded her agreement. It only took a moment for her to shrink and pack the tent. Harry grabbed the heavy satchel and then threw it over his shoulder while Snape murmured indiscreet words as he attempted to eliminate any evidence that anyone had ever been there.

Without another word, they apparated home.

* * *

Deep in a nondescript German forest in an abandoned and secluded muggle castle, a blond man approached a thick wooden door, hesitated momentarily, and pounded heavily on the hard surface. After a pregnant pause, a muffled voice was heard beyond the door.

"Enter."

The man obliged, though he moved slowly, with great effort. The room he entered was dark, but for two torches on adjacent walls that cast eerie shadows across the expanse of the room. It smelt stale, ancient - the dust of decades of solitude penetrating his nostrils with each breath he took. Straight ahead of him was the back of a chair, with an ample amount of long, blond hair flowing down it's spine. The figure that occupied it stirred slightly, shifting the pattern of hair across the stained velvet.

"What news?" The man hidden by the chair asked.

The approaching man paused, his boots thick with mud. "Someone was...there - though I did have backup, of course."

A slight pause. "Potter?"

"I suspect. Though, I doubt he was alone."

The man behind the chair sneered. "The mudblood, no doubt."

"Yes. I think so."

There was a slight rattle as a black cane struck the stone floor, causing a deep echo through the room. "I trust you can handle this."

The standing man swallowed. "Of course, father."

"Good." The sitting man pulled something from his robes and held it out to his left side. "You will need this."

Steely gray eyes lit up the moment they saw the wand. In three great strides he reached the sitting man and took the much longed for token. As he turned to exit the room, he felt a tight, painful grip on his wrist.

"Do _not_ fail me, Draco."

And with a renewed sense of determination; gray eyes flashed, and Draco Malfoy walked roughly over the stone floor and out through the great wooden door.

* * *

_A/N: Ah...the plot thickens. I, first, must say that with last week's chapter I broke the 100 review mark! Yay! A HUGE 'thank you' to everyone who has taken the time to leave their thoughts. I do hope, of course, that the trend will continue. And, as a slightly evil bit of motivation, the next chapter or so will have some...incredibly intriguing developments. :) Let's just say that they were well in my head before I even began writing this fic. And so, with that, I'll eagerly await the reviews as I begin constructing the next chapter. :)_


	9. Chapter 9

_"History, despite its wrenching pain, cannot be unlived, but if faced with courage, need not be lived again."_

- Maya Angelou

* * *

**Chapter 9: The Lake**

* * *

A black strand of hair fell around Severus' face as he bent to look over the boiling cauldron. Hermione smiled softly as she watched him. It was something she found herself doing more and more frequently - quietly observing him. The line of his lips, the blackness of his eyes, and the way his ebony hair fell around his face when he looked over a cauldron; all of it was strangely fascinating to her. At length he looked up from his task and saw the faint smile on her lips.

"And may I inquire as to what is so amusing?"

Hermione's smile widened. "Nothing."

"Nothing?"

Hermione shook her head. "No. I was just watching you. That's all."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "If you are that easily entertained, Hermione, then perhaps we should find you a new hobby."

Hermione's soft grin grew into a glorious smile at the mention of her name.

It had been nearly a month since he had first let it slip. And it certainly was a _slip_. An accident. The name had come rolling off his tongue like the morning dew over a bending leaf, and he had stood wide-eyed; powerless to stop it. It had been a day much like this one, a month or so prior. It was now mid-December, and the professors were just as eager for the coming holiday break as the students were. But Hermione recalled that day with perfect clarity, as though it had only just happened a mere moment ago.

Her visual recall still flashed periodically through her mind, firing random images of that particular day. She remembered what she had been wearing, the precise place she had been standing, the sound of Snape's robes as they brushed over the stone floor. Previously, such details had been trivial. But that day - no. She recalled everything.

They had reached a crucial juncture with their experimentation of the potion. Snape had stood, arms folded, brow furrowed, as he frowned down at two separate flasks. One was a beautiful azure, the other - crimson. Hermione had been gazing intently at the two bubbling liquids when Snape spoke.

"I do not know what will happen when I combine the two ingredients."

Hermione's eyes widened in surprise. "You don't know?"

"As I said," Snape replied tartly. "I would prefer if you stood back against the wall."

"But what about you?"

"I have survived my fair share of potion's accidents."

Hermione swallowed as she slowly made her way toward the far wall. Snape lingered a moment longer, hovering over the two flasks, and then he picked them up gingerly. Dark eyes glistening with a fierce intensity, Snape brought the crimson flask close to his face for observation. At length, he lowered it to the cauldron and poured in the contents. He had been infinitely more reluctant with the azure flask. But eventually, he held the ingredient away from his body, and tilted the glass ever so slightly above the cauldron.

"Wait!" Hermione cried, taking a step forward. "I'll cast a shield charm - just in case."

"Dammit!" Snape cursed, surprised by Hermione's outburst, as he nearly dropped the entire flask. "What did I tell you? Stand back by the wall. You think this is some form of machismo chivalry? We need one person completely in tact in case something _does_ go awry!"

"Then let me be that _one_ person!" Hermione countered, taking another step forward. "I'm just as capable of pouring that in as you are."

Snape looked murderous. "I will wait," he hissed, "...for as long as it takes to relocate yourself to the wall. Mind you - if you try my patience, Hermione, I will physically move you there myself."

Immediately, he realized his blunder.

His eyes had widened, and he stood like his patronus in headlights, completely still and equally nervous. He swallowed thickly and met her eyes. "Professor Granger, if you would kindly - "

"Wait," Hermione interrupted, walking closer to him and simultaneously angering him in the process. "Why...why won't you call me that?"

He must have pretended not to understand, for Hermione pressed, "You call all the other professors by their first names. How...why am I any different?"

Snape had lowered the flask to his workbench, but refused to meet her eyes. "It is...out of habit."

She was now directly in front of him; her soft sorrel eyes looking curiously at his face while he continued to ignore her. "Does it bother you?"

And then he did meet her eyes, as confusion chased itself over his. "You think my using your name would bother me?"

Hermione folded her arms across her chest. "Does it?"

Sighing heavily, he looked from his pale hands to her gaze. "I confess that I sometimes forget you are a...woman. I fear that you have been forever ingrained into my mind as an eleven-year-old student. And that...would be improper for me to address her - you, in such a way."

Hermione frowned at his response and looked pointedly to her boots, shuffling them slightly over the cool surface of the stone floor.

At length, she asked. "Do I look like I'm eleven?"

Snape thought back to the night he had tucked her cloak around her, blushing furiously as he did so.

"No."

Clearing his throat, he turned the question back on her. "Does it bother you that I choose not to address you in that way?"

Hermione shrugged her shoulders, but still refused to meet his gaze. "Are we not equals?"

It took him a long moment to respond and Hermione felt every second of their silence while she waited for him. "Yes," he said at length in a soft voice. "I daresay we are, Hermione."

She had smiled at him gloriously in that moment, her head immediately rising to look him full in the face. The magnitude of the moment was real. It was one of those moments where time, that ever present and continuing spectacle, had to pause in its grand continuation and quietly observe the shift in balance.

That had been the last time he had referred to her as, _Professor Granger_.

And so, as she watched him now, a faint smile rested gently on her lips. Snape, she noticed, was looked at her with obvious bemusement.

"Daydreaming does not become you. When you are ready, of course, we can continue." His voice seemed slightly put out, his eyes narrowed; but Hermione could sense the humor behind his words.

"Sorry," she amended as she shook her head. "I was somewhere else."

"Evidently."

"Honestly," Hermione sighed as she rolled her eyes, "...the potion isn't going anywhere, Severus."

_That_, she realized with some trepidation, still took getting used to. While she had fully embraced the idea of him calling her by her given name, it had been equally awkward and strange to refer to the man she had known for so long as, Professor Snape, to _Severus_. The more, however, she tried it out on her tongue; the more she realized she thoroughly enjoyed it.

Severus motioned to a bookshelf in the far corner of their workspace with a slight nod of his head. "On the third shelf towards the left there should be a copy of _Magical Drafts and Potions_. We will need the information in the footnotes."

Hermione nodded and made to retrieve the book. "I've been thinking...," she said as her fingertips gently grazed over the thick spines of the texts.

"Am I meant to be surprised by that announcement?"

"No," she replied airily as she returned with the book and handed it to him. "About Malfoy - er, Draco."

The previous month had resulted in no new information for Harry or the Auror Department regarding the Malfoys. The forest in Germany was just as void of mystery as Oliver Wood's personality. Harry had led several Auror teams, visiting the exact spot where he had been attacked; but the forest was still. Silent. Keeping it's secrets and revealing nothing. Hermione had mulled over the situation in her head more times than she cared to remember. She hadn't yet openly discussed the matter with Severus, still slightly hesitant, but the fact that he had not pushed or questioned her made her trust in him grow even further.

"And what about young Draco pikes your curiosity?" Severus asked as he flipped through the pages of the old book.

Hermione leaned against the workbench, crossed her arms, and chewed on her lower lip. "I just don't understand...if he truly was the one responsible for the muggle deaths, why would he be crying on the videotape? And not just crying - sobbing. It doesn't make sense."

Severus was silent for a moment, quietly scribbling something down on a piece of parchment as he marked a section of the text with his index finger. "There is more truth in the matter than you might first assume."

When Hermione raised an eyebrow, he continued reluctantly, "Like many things...it is easy to become...caught up in the moment. Regret almost always comes later."

She stared at him blankly. "You're saying that Draco was too caught up in the action of _killing_ someone, went ahead and did it anyway - four separate times, I might add, and then felt remorse afterward?"

Severus stopped scratching over the parchment and looked up to meet her eyes. "Open your mind," he whispered. "With a simple spell, the notion of life and death is held within a person's grasp." His black eyes were penetrating. "One phrase is all it takes. _One _simple phrase. Imagine how empowering it would be to a Death Eater. How _intoxicating_."

Hermione looked at him with fear in her eyes. Somehow, terribly, she had the feeling that he wasn't just an observer in his insights. But she was also certain he wasn't referring to Dumbledore.

Now, where that led her current train of thought was as good as anyone's guess.

"And of course," he continued. "...the effect wears off, and they are left with nothing but their own pain...and guilt."

Hermione swallowed but said nothing. At length, Severus rose from his text, took three strides, and stood quietly before her. After several moments of silence he said, "You think I am a monster."

She shook her head. "No."

"You do," Severus pressed. "I see it in your eyes."

She looked at her hands for a long moment. "No, I know...I know it must have been difficult for you. I understand how Voldemort could manipulate, entice, and seduce. He could make it seem something beautiful."

After an exaggerated silence he offered, "I was not so easily seduced, as you say. I was _never_ his. But I saw...how it affected the others...how they slowly slipped. Power is an enticing motive. And long after the deed is done, all they can hear are the screams of the innocent, the fear on their faces, the pleading of their eyes. Families shattered - broken."

Hermione stared ahead in shock, too numb to speak.

"It is then that the remorse comes."

They both stood there, saying nothing. The flames under the cauldron crackled anxiously as the liquid continued to boil. When Hermione finally gained the courage to meet his eyes, there was a single tear trail down her right cheek.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I can't even imagine..."

He took a step forward to embrace her, but thought better of it. At length, he reached his hand to her face, gently placed his fingers under her chin, and then ever so slightly raised her head so their eyes met.

"You have nothing to be sorry for."

"Yes I do!" Hermione countered, her tears now spilling freely. "I always thought I was robbed of my childhood - of my innocence. I could never image having to endure something that...that..."

But she was sobbing heavily. And this time, Severus did embrace her. Awkwardly, at first - but she soon melted into his dark robes, her face burying itself in his chest. It was a strange sensation. To his recollection, he had only embraced another like this once in his life - and that, of course, had been Lily. There was something about the feel of her against him, the tiny trembles that coursed through her body. And again, as it had been the night she had arrived on the threshold of his quarters seeking aid, he felt something stir within his chest.

A beat.

What was it?

_Hope._

She disengaged and batted at her eyes with embarrassment. "I'm sorry...I'm normally not that emotional. I just..."

There was no real explanation. But Severus knew. And if it were at all possible, he esteemed her all the more highly because of it. They didn't mention or discuss what had just passed between them. As if nothing had happened, Hermione began to chop ingredients in earnest while Severus returned to his text.

Outside, the snow had begun to fall quietly.

* * *

A few days later, Hermione found herself walking through the crunching snow towards Hagrid's hut. The sky was overcast, but it didn't appear as though there was potential for another snowstorm. She breathed in heavily, wrapping her cloak tightly around her. Her breath - visible with each step she took. But Hagrid was already happily waiting for her, wrapped snuggly in some strange anomaly of clothing that, despite its strange appearance, looked surprisingly warm.

"Hello, Hagrid," Hermione greeted kindly.

"Ello, 'ermione! Yeh all set, then?"

She nodded and set after him as he bounded easily through the snow and towards the Forbidden Forest.

As she watched him shrink into the distance, she had the full confidence that he could easily beat a cheetah in a race.

"Hagrid!" Hermione called after him as she struggled to keep up. "You've got to slow down! My legs can only go so fast!"

Hagrid stopped mid-stride, turned to Hermione from several meters ahead, and said with slight embarrassment in his gruff voice, "Sorry, 'ermione. My legs are just so long, see? I forget you go a bit slower."

Hermione smiled as she finally reached him. "It's fine, Hagrid. I just don't remember exactly how to get there. I'd hate to get lost in this weather."

Hagrid nodded solemnly. "That's right good thinking, 'ermione."

They traveled in relative silence, happily enjoying one another's company as they passed through the young trees that marked the entrance to the Forbidden Forest. "So," Hagrid said stiffly after a lengthy silence, "...yeh've been spending a good amount o' time with ole Snape lately."

That certainly wasn't in the cards.

Hermione looked at him, startled. Hagrid, despite his delicate flaws, was never one to really beat around the bush. Still, though, it surprised her that he would bring up Severus in such an abrupt way.

"Yes...," she replied tentatively, "I suppose I do. I'm not really sure what that has to do with anything, though," she added awkwardly, "I still come and visit you, don't I?"

Hermione was confident that Hagrid couldn't understand the magnitude of her and Severus' relationship. Hell, she wasn't entirely sure she could explain it. But she was fairly certain that all the cold stares Hagrid had directed at Severus over the past months were a direct result of him not being able to get past the fact that the man had killed Dumbledore.

Hagrid looked straight ahead but said nothing, his massive breath visible as he walked along. After a lengthy silence, he said, "Yeh are right, of course. It's just hard to get past 'im...yeh know...with...Dumbledore, I suppose."

Hermione nodded. He was eerily on topic with her thoughts. "I understand, Hagrid. But Dumbledore asked him do it. He_ made_ Severus give him his word. You have to remember that. I don't think people realize how...difficult it must have been for him."

"I know. I know," Hagrid replied as he raised his massive hands in the air. "Just is hard, is all. Dumbledore would always come down an visit me. Great man, Dumbledore. Great man." He sniffed loudly and wiped his nose on the massive sleeve of his right arm. Eventually, he offered, "Ole Snape doesn't seem quite as grouchy as before, don't he?"

"_Professor _Snape," Hermione corrected, as she had so many times with Harry and Ron. "No, I'd say he's much more tolerable."

Hagrid left it at that, and they continued to press forward until Hermione noticed a familiar thicket not far ahead. Shivering, she extricated a few carrots she had taken from the Great Hall as Thor decided to make his presence known, stepping out from behind the branches. The young unicorn had grown by leaps and bounds since Hermione had last seen him. He was already taller than she, though he still retained a slight hint of baby fur on his hind quarters.

A unicorn was a difficult creature to observe in the snow, Hermione noted. Partly because he was camouflaged so marvelously, but his radiant coat shone brighter than the wintry blanket around them, and Hermione almost had to shield her eyes as he slowly approached.

"Hey there, Thor," she said gently as the young unicorn stopped in front of her. "I've got something for you."

Thor's ears pricked forward as soon as he saw the carrots; and once Hermione offered them, he gobbled them up happily.

"He remembers yeh right well, 'ermione!" Hagrid observed fondly. "By spring he'll be strong enough for yeh to come down and ride!"

"Ride?" Hermione asked, slightly startled, as she rubbed the unicorn's brow. "He's a magical creature, Hagrid - I don't really know..."

"Of course! And he already likes yeh, just look! Yeh should take some time to come see 'im more."

Hermione quietly agreed that she would and turned back to Thor, who was impatiently nuzzling her shoulder.

What a magnificent creature.

Blindingly white, with eyes as black as Severus', and a golden horn that was much more pronounced than when he had been a foal; Hermione suddenly felt a sense of smallness standing next to something so beautiful. But Thor didn't appear perturbed in the slightest, and happily rested his head on her should as she continued to stroke the side of his neck.

After several moments of quiet wonder and peace - and it _was_ peace; a gentle calmness that came over Hermione she couldn't explain. It seemed to roll off Thor in waves; and like a wand lighting abruptly in a darkened room, his presence quieted the anguish of her heart. The hurt and betrayal she felt of losing Ron's friendship, the uneasy sensation she felt over Harry's impending wedding and the subsequent knowledge that things would never be the same, along with the strange nervousness she felt toward Severus - the fear of the unknown - all of it melted away. Like a heavy load lifting from her shoulders, Hermione stared at Thor in grateful awe.

At length, the wind rustled through the thick branches and Hermione felt herself shivering. "I should probably be heading back, Hagrid," she said regretfully. "It will be getting dark before too long, and I've still got several papers to grade."

They said goodbye to the unicorn, though Thor followed Hermione for several paces. Eventually, he paused as the trees became thinner, and when Hermione glanced over her shoulder, his black eyes were still looking at her expectantly. When they reached Hagrid's hut, Hagrid stooped and fiercely embraced his friend.

"It was great to see yeh, 'ermione. Just great."

"You too, Hagrid."

They disengaged and as Hermione headed back to cross the snow covered grounds, Hagrid picked up his over sized crossbow and retraced his steps back to the woods.

"Hagrid," Hermione called with a raised eyebrow. "Where are you going? Dinner will be ready shortly."

Hagrid turned around but continued in the direction they had just come. "Snape asked if I could get 'im some fireflies for a potion. They're best to catch at dusk, see? Just when they're coming out. Tell the Headmistress I might be o' bit late!"

Hermione's mind struggled to create the scene in which Severus went to ask Hagrid for assistance, but drew a complete blank. She vaguely recalled Severus mentioning something about fireflies, and assumed it was for the very potion they were working on. But she then went back to the last part of Hagrid's statement and called after him before he completely disappeared into the Forest. "Hagrid, Minerva is in London with Poppy for a conference..._The Healer's Art_, or something like that! Make sure you're not too late, or I'll come looking for you!"

Hagrid beamed at her threat and waved happily before he broke into an outright sprint and was lost to the darkness of the woods.

Crossing her arms over her chest, Hermione ducked her head into the wind and began heading back toward the castle. She had covered a fair amount of ground when she heard shouting coming from behind her. Reluctantly turning, Hermione saw two students running up to her with their arms waving frantically in the air.

Hermione's heart began pounding without knowing why. Whatever they wanted, this was no social visit.

"Professor! Professor!"

There were two of them. And as they drew closer, Hermione recognized them as third year Hufflepuffs, Alice Williams and Emily Barnum. They were red faced from running - the mist of their breaths trailing out behind them like the steam of a train engine.

"Professor Granger!" Emily called, doubling over and placing her hands on her thighs as she came to an abrupt stop in front of Hermione. "Please...you have...to come...quick!" Her breathing was erratic and uneven, though her companion didn't seem to be faring any better. "Two...first years...in the lake..."

"What?" Hermione demanded, instantly snapping to life. "There are students _in the lake_?"

This time it was Alice that nodded. "Slytherins. We all thought the lake was frozen enough...they...they fell right through the ice."

Adrenaline coursing through her body in a terrified panic, Hermione looked to the forest where Hagrid had just departed. It was with a sinking feeling in her stomach that she realized he was long gone by now. And as her own breathing began to hitch and become somewhat irregular, she drew her wand and turned to the two winded students. "Listen to me," she said firmly, going so far as to grab Emily's robe to emphasize the gravity of the situation. "I want you to run back to Hogwarts as fast as you can and get help - the first teacher you see. Do you understand?"

The girls nodded with wide, frightened eyes and began running without hesitation to the castle. Hermione, however, turned and ran in the opposite direction.

A million thoughts were racing through her mind. How long had the students been in the water? With the temperature as cold as it was, it wouldn't take long for hypothermia to set in - and that was _if_ the students were capable of swimming. Hermione repressed the thought with a shudder. She wouldn't allow her mind to go there.

Winded and breathing heavily, Hermione at last came to the lake. Like the landscape around her, her heart froze when she took in the scene. It was as though someone had a firm hold of her chest, and kept squeezing tightly without mercy. In the center of the lake, Hermione saw the silhouettes of two struggling forms - heads and arms clawing desperately at the ice, but barely breaking over the surface of the water.

And as the sun finished it's initial descent beyond the mountains, Hermione cursed loudly to herself and ran to where the frozen lake met the snowy shore. The ice didn't look at all stable. It was still somewhat transparent where the snow had been brushed off, revealing small bubbles, along with the movement of the water beneath the surface. Looking out at the struggling forms that were pathetically calling for aid, Hermione was confident that her weight would do much more damage than a small first year.

And so, she did the first thing that came to her mind.

"_Wingardium Leviosa!_"

The distance was too great, and she knew that. But still, as she felt the magic leave her wand and focus on the two helpless students; she hoped.

It was for naught.

The arms continued to struggle, and the pleas for help were becoming disturbingly fainter. And so, without another hesitation, Hermione took a step forward and held her breath as she crossed the ice. Cracks stretched out beneath her boots and her heart pounded nervously with each tentative step. But she pressed forward, shaking and terrified, as her eyes flickered anxiously at the two helpless students.

Each step was painfully slow. Hermione felt vaguely as though she was trapped in one of those nightmares where you're trying to run, but your feet are somehow too heavy, and the distance - insurmountably far. But she raised a shaking hand at the struggling forms as she looked at the shifting ice beneath her, and cried, "_Wingardium Leviosa!_"

The figure nearest to her, a boy, rose from the water and was gently deposited onto the ice, several meters from the gaping hole. When his body touched the solid surface, he did not stir. Hermione's eyes lingered on his still form for a moment before quickly turning her attention to the young girl that was still flailing helplessly. She raised her wand to perform the same spell, but before the words could leave her trembling lips, the girl disappeared beneath the surface.

_Oh, shit._

Hermione's eyes widened. Her heart stopped. Time stood still - as clichè as it sounded. She ran forward then, with no thought of the ice breaking beneath her, until she at last reached the treacherous crater - pausing only to cast the spell at the young girl. She had only just uttered the words and dropped the girl onto the slippery surface when she heard a great groan and tremble from beneath her. Scrambling to get to more stable ground, the ice cracked with the intensity of a thundercloud, and Hermione lost her footing and disappeared into the freezing water.

* * *

Severus scowled as he made his way up from the dungeons and toward the Great Hall. He had just finished his Gryffindor/Slytherin class and felt as though he needed to throttle something. While he had been equally fair to the Gryffindors all year long, there were still several students belonging to that particular House he wouldn't mind strangling.

_Too many damn James Potters out there._

And then, as had happened so often in the past few weeks, his mind strayed to Hermione. Too headstrong, intelligent, and courageous for her own good; Hermione was a perplexing thorn in his side. She _so _reminded him of Lily, but was still distinct and intriguing in her own right. They shared no physical resemblance - aside from the fact that they both never seemed to understand the allure of their own beauty. In all of the conversations they had shared over the past months, she had not once judged him or the actions of his past. A few days prior, she had gone so far as to pity him.

He did not want pity, but it was better than the alternative.

_I am not a murderer._

Severus was mulling over that particular point and had just begun to feel sorry for himself when two students literally hurled themselves into his robes, collapsing heavily onto the cold stone floor.

"What in the name of - "

"Professor," Alice whimpered pathetically. "Please..."

His scowl immediately vanished and he crouched down before Alice could utter an another word. "What is wrong?"

It took a few moments for the girls to catch their breath and gain some semblance of composure, but Emily finally choked out, "Two Slytherins fell in the lake...Professor Granger...she went to help them."

In that moment, Severus wondered if he lacked the normal human panic response - the mental blackness, the inability to ascertain the situation, the incoherency that came with the adrenaline kick. His mind was clear - focused; though several questions were relentlessly hounding him. How long had the students been in the lake? Had the sun already set? Was anyone else with Hermione?

And then he _did _feel his heart pound with terror.

He knew that with her damned Gryffindor sensibilities, she would be the first one down there - throwing herself into the lake, if need be. And so, after he quickly checked to see if the two Hufflepuffs had incurred any physical damage, he locked eyes with the trembling students and ordered, "Go and find Professor Sprout immediately to make sure you have not done yourself any harm. Inform her of the situation and get the Headmistress - "

Damn.

He had forgotten about that infernal conference in London.

"See to it you inform Professor Sprout of the situation."

And without another word or backward glance, Severus stormed out of Hogwarts and into the biting night.

* * *

The water was freezing.

No. Freezing was too kind a word.

The water was _painful. _Every inch of Hermione's body screamed as the frigid water assaulted her senses. In her moment of panic, the _Cruciatus_ seemed a pleasant alternative. She had lost her wand to the depths of the lake the moment she hit the water, but that was currently at the bottom of her priority list. As she struggled to the side wall of ice, shaking and trembling, her heavy cloak tightened around her neck, making it nearly impossible to move. And so, with numb fingers, Hermione groped at her neck as she attempted to loosen the heavy garment.

But her fingers had lost their normal dexterity in the cold. They fumbled at the nape of her neck while her legs kicked furiously to keep herself afloat, until she gave up and struggled laboriously over to the ice. Each movement was difficult. Slow. Every last ounce of effort seemed excruciating. Her arms were heavy as they paddled through the frigid water, carrying the weight of several layers of clothing. After what seemed to be an eternity, she made it to the ice, her red fingers clinging to the slippery surface as she attempted to pull herself up. But the cloak was heavy, pulling menacingly at her neck. Her arms trembled with strain as she tried again, this time using her elbows to crawl further onto the ice, but there was no traction, and with a painful lurch, Hermione's hand came crashing down on a jagged piece of ice and she was submerged once more in the painful water.

Surfacing with chattering lips that were surely blue, Hermione paddled with what little strength she still had to the ice. This time, she did not attempt to pull herself up, but merely peeked over the white wall to where the two young first years were shaking and looking at her with frightened eyes.

"Professor...," the boy trembled, looking around uncertainly.

Hermione swallowed to speak, but it was somehow more difficult than she remembered. "Go...get inside..."

The girl was already stumbling across the ice toward the shore, but the boy lingered, pale faced and reluctant.

"Go...," Hermione said again. She tried to make her voice sound stern, but it came out as a pathetic whisper.

He didn't hesitate again and scurried after the girl as they slid over the ice. Hermione didn't know how long it would take them to reach the castle and get help, but she was silently praying that the Hufflepuffs had been successful and had found someone that would come to her aid. Around her, the sky was nearly dark, and each breath was difficult, laborious, and painful. Her lungs were screaming with each gulp of air. The ice next to her was red from her cut. Her body was completely numb now, and it would not stop shaking. But shaking was good. Shaking meant that your body was still fighting to warm itself up, despite the insurmountable odds. It was when the shaking stopped that you knew you were in real trouble.

_A little longer. _

_Just hang on._

Her hair was clinging together, tiny ice crystals forming on the crown of her head.

_How long have I been in the water?_

Time had become deceptive, as it had when she had been tortured by Bellatrix. She could have been in the water for five minutes or an hour; somehow it all seemed irrelevant. And then wondrously, mercifully, everything slowly became warmer. It started in her toes and carefully worked through her body. And as her body slowly began to warm, a tiredness fell over her that she couldn't explain. Her eyes drooped lazily - her body relishing in the warmth. It would be _so_ easy to just fall asleep. No more cold, no more struggle - just rest. Sleep.

And so, her hand loosened its grip on the ice, leaving a trail of red as she slipped silently beneath the surface.

* * *

Severus was running.

It was completely dark, but he was confident he would be able navigate his way to the lake even if he had been blindfolded. Heart pounding frantically in his chest, he thought back to what the Hufflepuff student had said.

_Professor Granger...she went to help them._

Damn her and her Gryffindor sensibilities.

_When I find her, I will personally kill her._

He was picking up speed as he raced down the hill until he very nearly collided with another set of students for the second time in the same evening.

"Prof...Professor...," Anne Robles, one of his first years chattered.

He bent and lighted his wand, shinning the light on her and her companion, Ethan Ledger. They were soaking wet, dripping, and clutching their arms furiously as their teeth chattered loudly.

"Are either of you harmed?"

Anne shook her head. "Just...cold..., sir."

"Professor Granger...she fell," Ethan said as he shook, "...she fell...in the lake...she's...still there..."

Severus' heart stilled, though he still felt it thudding loudly in his ears. After a brief moment of panic he gently grabbed Ethan by the shoulders and said, "You need to get yourself and Miss Robles to the castle and find Professor Sprout. Keep walking. Do not stop. Do you understand?"

Ethan nodded and began heading back up towards Hogwarts with Anne slightly behind him. Severus lingered for only a second, watching their retreating forms, and then he turned and ran with the fury and desperation of a madman. He knew it didn't take long for hypothermia to set in, and if Hermione's body temperature had dropped, there was no telling in what kind of condition she would be in. But he came upon the lake at last, and with a deep breath and a silent prayer, he stepped out onto the ice.

* * *

Hypothermia does strange things to a person.

One minute, Hermione was clinging onto the ice for her very life, and the next, she was floating, warm and disoriented, completely unsure of her surroundings. It was dark - that much she knew, and her thoughts were straying to a strange place. If this was indeed the end, and she was awaiting her impending death, she found herself surprised that she was thinking of the one person that she was more confused about than anything. She assumed she would have thought of Harry in such a moment, or her parents - maybe even Ron, before things became awkward between them.

But the one person she thought of was Severus Snape.

His fascinating eyes, gentle touch, and quiet stillness. She wanted to tell him. She wanted to tell him how much he had come to mean to her. But that was impossible now. The darkness was getting thicker and she closed her eyes.

_Severus, if I'd had the chance..._

Without warning there was a painfully blinding light and the warmness left her so abruptly that Hermione felt as though she'd had the wind mercilessly knocked out of her. Everything was wrong. The cold and numbness were returning with a speed and force that frightened her. It wasn't supposed to be this way. What happened to the warm quietude? There were hands touching her now, frantic and somewhat clumsy. She felt them tilt her head back onto the ice and suddenly, shockingly, there were lips covering her mouth.

With a surge of air, Hermione abruptly twitched her head to the side and began coughing and choking as the water exited her lungs. Each breath was painful. No matter how deeply she breathed, it felt as though she still couldn't get enough air. She lay there, twitching and writhing on the ice as her lungs fought to free themselves of their captivity, while firm hands rested on her back - supporting her with each gasp.

At last, she opened her eyes. Her vision was blurry and obscured, but as she felt herself being rolled onto her back, she caught sight of a shock of black hair against the darkened background of night.

_Severus._

Severus watched Hermione in absolute terror. When he levitated her out of the water, she had hung limply and lifelessly in the air. Her face and lips were a deep blue and when he set her onto the ice, she had remained completely still. The cold had made his hands clumsy, and he did not stop shaking until he at last felt a pulse, just below her left ear. The relief that flooded him in that moment was nearly tangible. But as he turned his head so his ear was just above her mouth, he knew something was wrong.

She wasn't breathing.

Tilting her head back with the gentleness of one handling a sleeping child, he breathed into her mouth.

Even through the biting wind, her lips were delicately soft.

And to his overwhelming relief, she lurched at last, coughing and sputtering for air.

Without a word, he cast a drying and warming spell, though he noted Hermione continued to shiver violently. Severus stood quickly, stooped, and then lifted her into his arms. He refused to risk levitating during the journey back to Hogwarts - her core temperature was surely below normal, and he was confident the biting wind would tear through her without mercy. And so, he held her close, praying his body would provide some shelter until they reached the castle.

"Hermione," he spoke as he walked through the crunching snow of the grounds, "We're nearly there. Hold on."

At length he burst through the castle doors, cursing Poppy and that idiotic Healing conference as he made his way to the spiral stairs that descended to the dungeons. Hermione's shivering had become almost a small succession of spasms - tremors that were jolting her body, fighting with fury to keep her warm. He half walked, half ran to the relief with the Four Founders, quickly spat the password, and strode into his quarters without stopping.

Hurrying across the stone floor, Severus gently placed Hermione in front of the hearth. With the stealth and precision of one that had done it a thousand plus times, Severus brandished his wand and wordlessly lighted a crackling fire. Hermione was still shaking and trembling, and it was with frantic fingers that Severus undid the knot at her neck and removed her cloak.

"Hermione," he whispered, bending so his face was inches above her own. "Hermione, I need you to open your eyes."

Her dark lashes were fanned out across her cheeks. With the sound of his deep voice, they shifted just slightly.

"Hermione, you must stay awake..._, please_."

When she remained motionless, Severus again cast a warming spell and leaned over her anxiously.

"Hermione," he pleaded, his hands gently touching her pale face, "I need you," he swallowed.

And then her eyes _did_ open.

"...I need you to stay awake," he amended. "You _must_ stay awake."

She nodded, or at least Severus thought she did. Her entire body was shaking so violently he couldn't be entirely certain. But it was with increasing alarm that he realized she would not stop trembling. Her teeth had been chattering so vigorously that she had bit her lip with enough force to draw blood.

Again he cast a warming charm, but still, she continued to shake.

Hermione's lips parted slightly and she sub-vocalized, "Cold..."

"I know," Severus replied helplessly as he rubbed her arms to stimulate some form of heat. "I...I've already cast three warming charms - I fear any more would cause you damage."

Hermione looked at him without expression until she closed her eyes, trembling pathetically. Cursing to himself, Severus fed the fire with a quick flick of his wand - creating a warm glow throughout the room. He wordlessly fingered the hem of her robe, and though it was dry, it felt oddly cool against his skin. Making a quick decision, he leaned over Hermione's face. "Lie still. I'll be only a moment."

He was a good as his word, and Severus returned shortly, carrying a thick fur blanket. He knelt beside her, his face solemn, as he set the blanket beside him. "Hermione,...I...," he swallowed.

There was an awkward silence as he paused with embarrassment. It was a strange expression for his normally stern face. But Hermione saw the hesitation and immediately understood what he meant to do.

Reaching forward with an unsteady hand, Hermione quietly placed it over his. "It's...it's okay," she managed in a quiet voice. "I know...it's the only way."

He looked over her solemnly, something stirring in the depth of his eyes.

And then he reached for the neckline of her robe.

"Forgive me."

As he quietly fumbled with the ties of her robe, Severus noted with increasing embarrassment that his hands were shaking nearly as much as Hermione's entire body. But the robe loosened at last, and with his eyes focusing on anything but the woman lying in her underwear before him, he pulled the robe off her body and quickly grabbed and shook out the fur blanket.

Severus lifted Hermione's head to wrap the blanket around her, and as he did, he caught a glimpse out of the corner of his eye of a pale but firm stomach, along with a disturbing view of curvy breasts beneath a modest bra. Blanching, he focused intently on the blanket as he wrapped it tightly around her otherwise naked body.

She was still trembling but managed a small smile.

Severus looked at her solemnly. With a hesitant hand, he entwined his fingers in her wild hair, pushing it back behind her ear.

"Don't ever do that again."

Hermione's shaky smile grew wider, though her eyes were growing heavy. "Just...trying to create...house unity."

Severus cracked a small smile himself at her comment. "Are you you warmer?"

She nodded.

Her trembling was slowly subsiding and a healthy flesh color was rapidly returning to her face. At length, she opened her eyes and said quietly, "Thank you."

He looked at her curiously.

"You came for me."

His reply was immediate. "Of course."

She smiled then, soft and glorious, until her eyes closed and her breathing became deep and spaced. Severus' fingers were still combing through Hermione's disastrous hair when he whispered, "I will always come for you."

* * *

_A/N: Sooooo sorry for the delay. You must all think I'm cruel after the tease I left you on the last chapter. But the truth of the matter is that I completely had this chapter planned out in my mind, and when I went to translate it to writing, it quickly became the most difficult chapter I have written thus far. Everything was coming out as cheesy, choppy, and just all together shoddy. So, I had LOTS of editing to do. That being said... I would LOVE comments. As I said, this chapter was tricky. I think the story can really either stand or fall here, so please take a moment to review. Thanks! -Liz _


	10. Chapter 10

_"It hurts to love someone and not be loved in return, but what is the most painful is to love someone and never find the courage to let that person know how you feel."_

-Unknown

* * *

**Chapter 10: The Enemy**

* * *

Draco Malfoy stealthily pulled his hood over his head, obscuring his face and blond hair. The narrow alleyway was dark. Draco blinked under heavily hooded eyelids as he carefully observed the scene around him. The night air was frigid and he clutched his wand tightly under his cloak. Quickly rounding a corner, he came face to face with another hooded figure. The figure was completely still; the only movement, his breath - steady and vaporous.

"You're late."

Draco smirked. "You forget your place. I would curse you for your impertinence if your screams would not be heard. As it is, there are too many _muggles_ in this detestable town that would hear your cries."

Draco spoke the word _muggle_ with such vehemence; he literally spat.

The man swallowed and took a nervous step back towards the slimy wall of the alley.

"What news?" Draco asked.

"I found Greyback."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Where?"

"Not far from here. The woods. He's been living more like his other half since the fall," the man replied, dispassionately.

"What is his position?"

"He will join us."

Draco smiled sickly. "My father will be pleased. What else have you found?"

"Karkaroff is staying not far from here. He is still loyal to the cause."

"And which cause is that?" Draco asked, taking a threatening step forward. "To the _Dark Lord_, or to my father's vision?"

"Your father's vision, of course. He was as disgusted as the rest of us when he learned of _Riddle's_ true bloodline."

Draco nodded and scanned the area around them. "And what of the Carrows?"

"Still no sign of them, though I do have a source that informs me they are in France."

Draco's gray eyes burned in the darkness. "Find them, Yaxley. Find them and then contact me. I will be waiting."

Yaxley nodded and drew his wand. "And what of Potter?"

Draco smirked. "Leave him to me."

Yaxley met Draco's eyes and then turned to walk away. After a few steps, he paused. "Is what they say in the _Daily Prophet_ true? That Snape is alive?"

Draco's face resolved into a distorted smile. "My father will deal with Snape. You needn't worry about him."

Yaxley nodded. "And your source in the Order?"

"That is not your concern. Find the Carrows, Yaxley. That is your priority."

Yaxley's gaze lingered on Draco for a brief moment. As the air chilled around him, he turned, and disappeared into the shadows.

Behind him, Draco smiled.

* * *

Hermione opened her eyes to find herself, yet again, waking in the private quarters of Severus Snape.

_Of all the strange ironies in this world._

Feeling the warmth of radiating heat against her back, Hermione turned toward the fire that was still burning healthily in the hearth. As she moved, her bare shoulder brushed against the soft fur of the blanket. She blushed almost immediately; remembering she was clad in nothing besides her undergarments.

Last night she could have been stripped down to nothing and sprawled out across the stone floor and she wouldn't have cared or felt any shame. She had literally been frozen to the point of physical pain. But today, as she lay so exposed next to the crackling fire, she felt impossibly self consciousness. Wrapping her arms around her chest, she closed her eyes.

Not surprisingly, her thoughts strayed to Severus.

Sections of the entire ordeal were still hazy - the strange warmth that she felt when she had been sinking into oblivion, the incomprehensible coldness that had swept over her the moment Severus breathed life back into frozen body - all of it seemed like a bad dream.

Frowning in thought, Hermione remembered Severus' face once she had gained some semblance of coherency. He had leaned anxiously over her, attempting spell after spell to warm her. But the thing her mind kept retracing again and again, was Severus' obvious attempt to concentrate on anything besides her practically nude body. Now, it certainly could have been Hermione's imagination - it very well could have been her mind playing tricks on her in that particular traumatic state; but she could have sworn she saw Severus blush.

_And this man was a Death Eater?_

_Not your average Death Eater,_ Hermione reminded herself. _This man sacrificed everything for a cause he never believed in.  
_

So why did she feel strangely touched that he was too embarrassed to look at her scantily clad body?

_Because most men would have taken advantage of that; that's why. _

_Hell, Ron would have in about half a heartbeat._

Someone cleared their throat behind her, and Hermione turned to see Severus standing a great distance away, looking down at his feet.

"How are you feeling?"

Hermione pulled the blanket up to her chin. "Fine, I think."

Severus nodded and awkwardly shuffled his feet, for lack of anything better to do. "I took the liberty to have some of the house elves procure clothing from your quarters."

Hermione's eyes focused on the black leather sofa that she had been indisposed on during more than one occasion, and saw a neatly folded pile of clothing.

Seeing her fleeting glance, Severus cleared his throat once more. "I will leave you to attend to yourself. When you are dressed, come find me in the laboratory. I would like you check your hand."

Hermione's brow furrowed; but before she could say anything more, Severus quickly exited the main chamber and disappeared into his laboratory.

_My hand?_

Hermione extricated her hands from beneath the blanket and looked at them keenly. Surprisingly, her right hand was neatly and meticulously wrapped in a white bandage. It was with an annoying sense of frustration that she realized she couldn't recall how she had injured it. Flexing her fingers, she tested their dexterity. While there was no obvious pain, they seemed to respond slower than normal and with much more effort than she was accustomed to. Frowning, Hermione hurriedly threw the blanket off, stood, and hobbled over to the sofa.

She pulled on her emerald robe quickly -_ did he request this particular robe?_ - and with her left hand, patted at her hair in an attempt to tame the wild curls that were surely in every state of disarray from her ordeal the previous night. She sighed heavily when she realized there was nothing to be done for it, and slowly walked toward the entrance of Severus' laboratory. She hesitated just slightly on the threshold, and with a deep breath, opened the heavy wooden door and walked in.

Severus stood hovering over a cauldron, a curtain of black hair obscuring his pale face. Hermione watched him quietly for several moments, suddenly unsure of what to do or say. After an awkward pause, Severus finally looked up to acknowledge her. Slowly, he made his way over to her and stopped only inches from where she stood.

He made no attempt to speak, but merely stared down at Hermione's anxious face in pregnant silence. His eyes combed over her, taking in every contour of her face, every freckle, every scar. He reached forward, then, and grasped her upper arm firmly. Strangely, his eyes were as dark as storm clouds.

"Do not ever do something like that again."

Hermione raised her brow in confusion. "What?"

"You could have been killed."

"Those students _would _have been killed," Hermione countered, suddenly feeling angry. "They were first years, Severus. What would you have had me done? Run away?"

"Did you not levitate them?"

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "Yes, _I did_. Though if you're implying you can do a levitation charm from the distance of the shore to the middle of the lake, I would love to witness such a demonstration."

He did not counter her jab, but merely stated, "You cannot fully understand the seriousness of the situation. With the typical presence of a Gryffindor, you dove head first into a dangerous situation and did not ascertain the foreseeable consequences."

Hermione crossed her arms across her chest. "I am _not_ a child," she replied angrily. "I am fully capable of judging decisions by myself. Those students would have been _dead_ if I hadn't done something. Tell me, Severus," she asked defiantly, taking a step closer to him, "What would you have done?"

He sat there silently for several moments, his dark eyes looking over her intently.

There was a lengthly pause before he replied, "I...would have done the same as you."

"Exactly," Hermione replied with an ounce of triumph in her voice. "Then why on earth are you berating me?"

He looked to his feet for some time; swallowed audibly, and then dared to meet her eyes.

"I was...worried."

She must have looked dumbstruck, because he looked away with embarrassment and turned back to the cauldron.

"Wait," Hermione called, grabbing his cloak with her left hand. "Please."

He paused and looked down at her. His eyes were calculating, challenging - searching for something in Hermione she wasn't quite sure of.

At length he said, "Let me see your hand."

She offered it with only the slightest of hesitations. "I'm not sure how I hurt it."

Severus raised an eyebrow as he carefully took her hand in his. "You have amnesia?"

Hermione shook her head. "No. Everything just seems vague and hazy, like a dream. I remember levitating the students...," she paused as her eyes widened. "Are they okay? I completely forgot - "

"They are fine," Severus supplied. "I summoned Poppy not long after you...fell asleep. She has since looked after them and they are resting comfortably in the Slytherin common rooms."

Hermione smiled softly as Severus focused intently on her hand. "I'm glad."

Pressing the pad of his thumb gingerly against her palm, he offered, "There are not many Slytherins that would take the risk you did for a Gryffindor."

Hermione shrugged. "The rivalry is more exaggerated now that the War is over. Don't belittle your house, Severus. There are plenty of heroes among Slytherins - though most tend to hide in the shadows."

Severus looked up from her hand, understanding the implication. "I am not a hero," he said darkly.

"Of course you are," she countered. "How could you think otherwise?"

"You know nothing of what I have done. You do not know my past," he spat acidly, unwrapping her bandage.

"I know it well enough," Hermione pressed. "Everyone else has forgiven you Severus; why can't you forgive yourself?"

He paused as he removed the last layer of bandaging, reveling a deep gash on Hermione's palm. "It is easier said than done."

With her free hand, she gently raised it to rest on Severus' cheek. Frowning down at her, his brow creased with confusion.

"Let it go, Severus."

His unfathomable eyes searched hers for several seconds and something shifted there. A change, a recognition, an understanding. After a moment, he cleared his throat. "I did not heal your hand magically. I fear the damage may have affected your nerve endings. It will take someone beyond my skill to heal it properly."

Hermione's soft eyes were still looking at him intently, wishing in that moment that she possessed some skill in Occulemency. At length, she sighed and glanced away. "I had better go and see Poppy, then."

Severus regarded her silently, his eyes searching her face for several moments before he walked over to the cauldron and with a deft flick of his wand; wordlessly dimmed the flames. "I will escort you. I require a few additional medicinal potions for Mr Ledger and Miss Robles."

Hermione nodded and slowly made her way out of the laboratory with Severus following quietly in her wake. As they continued on in a heavy silence, Hermione's mind was reeling with the implications of everything that had happened within the last twenty-four hours. From Severus seeing her practically naked, to his inability to forgive himself over the deeds of his past, to the fact that her wand was floating around somewhere with the mermaids in the lake, to perhaps the most disturbing revelation of all - the stirring of something new and real in her chest every time her eyes met with her former professor; Hermione felt overwhelmed.

She quietly berated herself for having such thoughts. The man was nearly double her age, had been a former teacher and mentor, and there was a greater chance of her enjoying flying around idiotically on a broom than for Severus to return those same feelings for her.

_Wait. _

_Feelings? _

_What feelings? _

Hermione chewed her lip in deep thought as she attempted to scale another flight of stairs. Love was a concept that was as unfamiliar to her as Quidditch. Sure, she loved Harry, her family, her job. She loved all those things deeply - fiercely. But to be _in love_? It was only a few months ago that she had testified in front of the Auror Department that she did not believe in such a thing. Now, as she walked side by side in utter silence with Severus, she wasn't so sure. The depth and passion she had seen from Severus was...chilling, real, and tangible. Would it be possible for her to love someone in such a way? Or for them to show that kind of love and devotion in return?

She didn't dare to hope for something so delicious, so precious. Love like that - that wasn't something that was meant to happen to her, she was sure. It was what happened to Harry and Ginny, to Lupin and Tonks - who could not be parted even in death. She could scarcely imagine someone loving her with that kind of intensity, that kind of passion.

Involuntarily, she shivered.

"You're cold," Severus observed, as they climbed over the final step and turned down the corridor that led to the hospital wing. Wordlessly, he flicked his wand in her direction and Hermione immediately felt a warm, tingling sensation spread throughout her body.

"Thanks," she said with a sheepish grin, though it wasn't the outside temperature that had given her the chills. "My wand is still floating around the lake somewhere or I would have done it myself."

Severus raised an eyebrow. "I did not know you had lost it."

Hermione nodded. "I think I dropped it when I first fell in." Her brow crinkled in concentration. "Or," she retracted, "...it could have been when I was floating in the water and everything became warm. It's possible...maybe I just let go. I don't really remember."

Severus stopped mid-stride and grabbed Hermione firmly by the shoulders. "Everything was warm?"

Hermione looked at him with confusion. "Yes," she replied hesitantly, "I know it's impossible. It doesn't make any sense,...but I was warm."

Severus frowned as his eyes flashed with intensity. Just as he was about to speak, Poppy came bustling into the hallway and immediately made a beeline to where Hermione was standing.

"Hermione!" She shouted, nearly knocking Hermione over as she quickly ushered her into hospital wing with Severus following behind them like an obedient dog. "My dear, sit down. That's right, please sit. I want to take a look at you."

Hermione obeyed, but with a fair amount of restraint and sat on a neatly made twin bed with white folded sheets. "Poppy, really, I'm fine. It's just my hand - "

"Nonsense," Poppy replied, setting a stool in front of Hermione. "I feel simply awful that I wasn't here, and you're not leaving until I'm satisfied that everything is in proper working order."

Hermione chanced a glance at Severus who was hovering silently in the corner.

"Poppy, thanks to Severus, I'm fine. Really. I just - "

"Severus, you may leave until I am finished with Hermione. Now, open your mouth." Poppy instructed as she lighted her wand and began looking down Hermione's throat. Hermione rolled her eyes as she sat before Poppy like a stubborn child.

"Severus doesn't need to leave. He just needs to get some potions - "

"Do you have any lingering chills?"

"No."

"Numbness?"

"No."

"Memory loss?"

Hermione hesitated, chewing on her lower lip. "Well, there are a few things that are a little hazy. I'm pretty sure I passed out."

Poppy frowned and folded her arms as she scrutinized Hermione like a Jackson Pollock painting. "What happened before you passed out?"

Hermione shook her head. "I don't really know. I just remember everything becoming warm and then - "

"Warm?" Poppy demanded. "Sweet Merlin, girl! You could have died!"

When Hermione looked at her with confusion, Poppy continued, "A body can only withstand extreme temperatures for so long before it begins to shut down."

Hermione glanced again at Severus, who was frowning deeply as he listened to Poppy.

"Organ failure will eventually set in. With every near death experience I've ever read about in relation to hypothermia, the person claims to have suddenly had the sensation of being warm." She paused, looking at Hermione suspiciously. "Does that match your experience?"

Hermione looked at Poppy a long moment before her eyes flashed once again to Severus in the darkened corner.

He was watching her intently.

"Well, yes, but I'm fine - "

Poppy, however, was having none of Hermione's protests. And with a firm hand on Hermione's forehead, she was looking furiously into Hermione's eyes with her lighted wand, searching for Merlin knew what.

"Have you had any...," Poppy paused, looking over at Severus with narrowed eyes before whispering, "...any of your relapses lately?"

Hermione sighed. "It's okay, Poppy. Severus knows...about what happened to me."

The older woman frowned and looked over her shoulder at the man standing in the corner.

"I had a relapse not long ago, and Severus," she paused, meeting his eyes as she spoke his name, "...he assisted me."

Poppy nodded, though she did not look pleased. "I must admit I find myself surprised that with everything you went through last night, that it did not trigger something of the after-effects. Poor girl," she cooed, "...you've been through more than a person should."

Feeling embarrassed and impossibly babied, Hermione cleared her throat. "I'm fine. Really. Please, the only reason I'm here is that Severus wanted you to take a look at my hand."

Poppy's face was still resolved into a deep frown but she eventually gestured for Hermione to offer her hand. As she poked and prodded at the injured appendage, Hermione looked over her stooped form to Severus, who was still standing quietly in the shadows. At length he met her gaze and she offered him a soft smile. And as her eyes lingered over his, she had a sudden thought.

Not daring to blink, Hermione stated clearly in her head while looking directly at Severus; _read my mind._

After a lengthy silence, a look of confusion crossed Severus' face. And with a lopsided grin worthy of Ron, Hermione thought, _If you had to endure this every time you returned from the Death Eaters, I really and truly pity you._

Severus' look of confusion immediately dissolved as his dark eyes shone brightly without shame. His thin lips, so often set firmly into a rigid line, quirked upward at the edges in a small smile that she had only seen him display for her. Hermione returned the gesture with a broad grin of her own as Poppy continued to examen her hand.

At length, the Healer offered, "Well, there is some internal nerve damage, though I wager it's the least severe form, Neurapraxia." Bustling quickly over to a supply cabinet, she ran her aged fingers over a variety of colorful phials. "You will need to drink a special potion two times a day that will help to remedy the interruption of your nerve impulses down to the fibers. I would advise you to use your wand as little as possible, in order to help it heal more quickly."

Hermione nodded as Poppy returned and began to re-bandage her hand. "Well, that shouldn't be a problem, considering my wand is at the bottom of a lake at the moment."

Severus cleared his throat and stepped out from the shadows. "Poppy, if I could, I would like to obtain an extra dosage of those potions you prescribed to Mr Ledger and Miss Robles last night. With the upcoming break next week - "

"Oh, of course, Severus," Poppy interrupted dismissively, returning again to her cabinet of treasures. "You know very well you do not need to ask."

Hermione sat quietly while the elder woman finished attending to her hand. When the task was finished, Hermione stood. "Thank you, Poppy."

Poppy nodded and promptly handed her a phial containing a bright orange liquid. "Take two drops of this morning and night and you'll be just fine, dear."

Hermione smiled gratefully and headed toward the exit, meeting Severus half way. In his normal phlegmatic expression, he said quietly, as his eyes met Poppy's scrutinizing gaze from across the room, "You should return to your quarters. I will retrieve your wand."

"You're sure?"

Severus nodded, and without another word, made his way over to Poppy.

After Hermione closed the door quietly behind her, Severus turned to the aged Healer. "In regards to taking the last of your potions, I will be sure to go to the Apothecary the next time I am in Diagon Alley and - "

"What's gotten into you, Severus?" Poppy interrupted with a frown. "I have known you since you were eleven years old. Not once have I heard you express gratitude for _anything_."

Severus stared at her in complete silence, his dark form perfectly still.

At length, Poppy offered as she cleared her throat, "I do hope that I am clear when I ask you to keep Hermione's condition confidential. She has been a medical anomaly, I'm afraid, with her body's violent reactions to the _Cruciatus._"

Severus licked his lips and sighed quietly. "You are not in any danger from me, Poppy."

She nodded with a soft smile. "Yes. Of course. If I do remember correctly, you, yourself, had similar symptoms back when you - "

"I do not wish to discuss that," Severus interrupted, tersely. "You have my word, Poppy."

She nodded. "Thank you for taking care of the children last night, Severus. I scarcely can imagine what would have happened if you hadn't been there."

Severus shook his head. "You know very well that the gratitude should not be directed at myself but toward Professor Granger."

And with that, he extended his arm, gathered the two phials Poppy had set out for him, and exited the hospital wing.

* * *

As Severus crossed the Hogwarts grounds and made his way slowly to the frozen lake, he pulled his ebony cloak tighter around him as he fought against the biting wind. With boots crunching loudly in the snow, his mind wandered for the millionth time that day to the perplexing anomaly that was Hermione Granger. He frowned as he thought back to the scene in the hospital wing.

She had asked him to read her mind.

How very strange that seemed to him.

Legilimency was a skill that was normally used to extract information forcefully, unwillingly. It was an assault, of sorts. Hermione, however, had looked him straight in the face and had _playfully_ asked him to read her thoughts. His brow furrowed as he reached the shore of the lake. It was a strangely intimate gesture.

Raising his wand and pointing it to the lake, Snape whispered, "_Accio _Hermione's wand!"

As the ice at the center of the lake groaned and cracked with the force of a flying projectile, Severus thought back to Hermione's earlier comment about wanting to witness a levitation charm from the shore of the lake. As the ward soared effortlessly into his waiting hand, he allowed himself a quiet smile. While it was not a levitation charm, per se, the application and skill was the very same.

_Do not boast, Severus. _

_How easily the prideful fall._

Severus looked down at Hermione's wand and fingered it gently; drying the smooth wood as he turned it over with his nimble fingers. The wand was intricately carved and felt surprisingly friendly in his hands. After a quiet moment of observation, the wind came out of nowhere and whipped tears to his eyes. Carefully, he tucked it into the folds of his cloak, and turned into the wind to head back to the castle.

_Hermione. _

_What to make of you?_

He had spent several weeks denying that there was absolutely nothing between the two of them - countless hours and restless nights. But why would one claim the sky was red when it so obviously was blue? Severus grunted as he stepped over a large boulder and thought of Lily. Despite everything, even in death, she was still so much a part of him. Pausing by a large tree, Severus brandished his own wand and fingered it with a frown. After a moment of tracing his fingers over the ebony wood, he pointed it at a nondescript point in space and whispered, "_Expecto Patronum."_

The silver doe leaped from his wand and bounded gracefully through the snow, leaving no tracks behind it. Severus watched without feeling as it eventually dissipated into a thin, vaporous mist. Closing his eyes, he sighed.

_What have I become?_

Aches tended to lesson with time, and Lily's death had been no exception. Much of the time he had been numb to what had happened. He had not allowed himself the luxury of feeling anything - even pain. Because despite the agony and torment of pain; it was real, something concrete. And so he had dulled his senses to feel nothing except for what he had yet to accomplish in regards to the War. Numbness was good. He didn't deserve to feel. But every now and then, that sharp and penetrating pain would resurface without warning, and he would become racked unmercifully with guilt and torment.

Lily was his past. There was no doubt in his mind that she had made him the man he was today. Every good thing that he was, every good thing that he had ever done, stemmed from the goodness of that woman.

But she was dead.

And at his hands, no less.

So, what to do now?

Before the War had ended, he had been driven by a single purpose, an all-consuming mission. Everything in his soul had depended upon that. But the War was over. He had survived. What was his purpose in life now but to linger, waiting impatiently for death to take him?

Despite the general consensus of the students at Hogwarts, Severus actually enjoyed teaching. It had been an acquired taste, something that was initially repulsive to him - a certain means to an end. But intelligent students, he found - though extremely rare, were like clay to be molded in his masterful fingers. And Hermione, of course, had been every professor's dream. Something so completely unique and exquisite that she was scarcely believable - something almost of an apparition, an untouchable.

Severus frowned as he recalled the bushy haired and eager face of the young Hermione Granger. He had never once rewarded her with House points, never praised her in any fashion when she clearly deserved it more than any of the other students, and yet, she was the only person now with whom he had spoken plainly. She had accepted him without question, and defended him on more than one occasion to the student body.

Her soft eyes, full lips, and wild hair walked around in incessant circles in his head. And as his heart began to pound ever faster, he realized that it was Hermione who had made his empty life worth living. Her positive attitude, her insatiable thirst for knowledge, and fierce loyalty were unrivaled with any woman he had never known, including Lily.

Closing his eyes and sighing softly, Severus continued toward the castle. As he walked through the main entrance and turned to the spiral stairs that led up to Gryffindor Tower, he knew with a slight tinge of regret that he had to let Lily go. His past was slowly destroying him. Lingering over all the '_what if's'_ and the '_what could have beens_'.

He had his memories. They would have to be good enough.

He would always love Lily.

But what had Hermione said to him?

_Let it go._

He closed his eyes as he came to the threshold to Hermione's private quarters. Bringing his white knuckles to rasp quietly on the wooden entrance, he had a sudden thought. It was as though someone were pulling back his lank hair and whispering intimately into his ear.

_Lily was your past. _

_Hermione is your future._

Severus swallowed, hesitated slightly, and then rapped quietly on the wooden door.

* * *

Desh Blackwater hurried quickly through the precarious topography of the forest.

It was dark and he couldn't see a thing. As he ran, his foot caught the edge of a large boulder and he stumbled forward, clumsily. Gripping his wand, he fought the overwhelming urge to light it. Hissing loudly at his throbbing foot, he cursed the fact that he had been given specific instructions not to cast the _Lumos_ charm. And with his heart pounding wildly in his chest, Desh clutched his wand with white knuckles as he pressed on anxiously against the force of the biting wind.

Lucius would kill him if he was late.

At length, he paused to take in the unfamiliar surroundings, though he was scarcely able to make out the simple silhouettes of the nearby trees. For one terrifying moment, he worried that he had become lost. But a frightening voice from behind him quickly silenced those fears. The voice, however, bought entirely new fears of its own.

"I do not like to be kept waiting."

"Lucius!" He stammered. "I apologize...it was...difficult to navigate to the area without the use of my wand light."

Desh silently berated himself that his voice was quivering.

The faint moonlight cast an eerie glow across Lucius' already demented face. He sneered sickeningly as he took a step forward.

"Pathetic."

"I apologize," Desh reiterated, "...though I did get the information - "

But Lucius' wand was already at Desh's throat, his pale eyes wild like a rabid dog. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't dispose of you this instant."

Desh swallowed. "Potter...Potter knows something is going on."

Lucius' eyes narrowed. "And just what is it that you think he knows?"

There was a slight hesitation as his eyes darted back and forth across the area, scanning for help. "The...muggle deaths - the Auror Department has a tape. It...has Draco on it...burying bodies."

Surprisingly, Lucius' face did not change. But with a lazy flick of his wrist, he merely whispered, "_Crucio._"

The effect was instantaneous. With a horrible scream, Desh dropped to the muddy forest floor and began to writhe in pain, his body convulsing with each movement.

"Please! Stop! Please! NO...I'll do anything! Please!"

Lucius observed the scene with an expression that was somewhere between mild amusement and complete disgust. Brushing a dead leaf off his cloak, he released the curse.

"The Order of the Phoenix," Lucius said in a bored tone, "...tell me where they are meeting."

Desh was still gasping for breath, his shaking arms struggling to push his body off the muddied ground. "I...I don't know. McGonagall was meant to have found a new location... but they haven't met since...Snape returned. It was...at the Granger woman's request..."

Lucius frowned and tapped his wand to his lips thoughtfully. "That disgusting mudblood never ceases to annoy." And then his eyes narrowed maliciously. "Find a way, Desh. I do not care what you have to do."

Desh had finally managed to push himself into a sitting position and then shakily removed a piece of parchment from his cloak.

"Here..."

He offered the document to Lucius before his hands began to violently tremble.

"What is this?"

Desh closed his eyes. "The names and known locations of the members of the Order."

Lucius' face resolved into a sickening smile. "Well done, Desh. Well done."

As Desh continued to breath erratically on the forest floor, Lucius folded the parchment and carefully placed it within the confines of his robes.

"The Order," he said as a mist of breath left his mouth, "...is the first step toward our total victory. Once they are eliminated, there will be little resistance in our path. The tainted blood that _infests_ the wizarding world will at last be eradicated," he sneered. "And I will go down in history as a god among men for my efforts in destroying the dangerous parasitic plague that are mudbloods and half-bloods."

Desh looked up at Lucius, unsure of what to say.

"You and I are privileged, my brother," Lucius continued reverently. "Our blood is noble and pure. _Riddle_," he spat, as he looked down at Desh, "...deceived many on his failed journey. But rest assured, I will finish what he could not."

Lucius then brandished his wand and turned to walk away. Over his shoulder he called, "Do not be late again."

And with a flick of his wand, he whispered, "_Crucio._"

* * *

_A/N: So sorry for the delay! Unfortunately, life gets rather busy at times. Please know that my intentions were nothing but honorable. :) Thank you to everyone so far who has taken a moment to review. I've said it before, and I'll say it again - they are a huge motivator. Please let me know if you like the way the plot is developing. Severus and Hermione are one step closer...  
_


	11. Chapter 11

_"Life isn't about endings. Rather, it's about a series of moments..."_

-Unknown

* * *

**Chapter 11: The Kiss**

* * *

Hermione opened the heavy wooden door to her private quarters and chucked softly as Severus took in the damp hair that clung to her shoulders. His dark eyes widened ever so slightly in a subtle gesture Hermione had come to recognize as mild startlement.

"You look surprised to see me," she offered, standing back to let him enter. "Though, seeing as you're standing outside of _my_ door - "

"I have your wand," Severus interrupted, stepping over the threshold.

Hermione repressed a smile and closed the door behind him. "Of course."

_Was he embarrassed, just now, knowing I had only barely finished with my bath?_

_Grow up, Hermione. Not only is he a grown man, but as a Death Eater, he surely faced obstacles more terrifying than a woman getting out of the bath._

Hermione swallowed and gestured to a plush chair, adorned with several talon scratches, just adjacent to the burning hearth. "Please, sit. You must be freezing."

She took in the weariness and slight shift of his body as he gratefully acquiesced. There was a lengthy silence as Severus looked around curiously at her little room. The Persian rugs, the massive desk scattered with ink stained parchments, and the endless black feathers strewn across the stone floor seemed to greatly intrigue him. But he remembered himself then, and glanced at Hermione with the faintest flick of embarrassment gracing his features.

"Here," he said simply, reaching into his cloak and extricating her wand.

Hermione's eyes looked at the object in longing delight. With two quick steps, she stood in front of Severus, gently squeezing his arm in gratitude as she took the precious gift from him and cradled it reverently in her hands.

"Thank you."

A curt nod. "You're welcome."

And then she brought her wand to her hair, wordlessly casting a drying charm. Her thick locks dried instantly, though there was a slight tingling sensation that lingered in her right hand after she cast the spell.

"What's wrong?" Severus asked, frowning.

Hermione shook her head. "Nothing. I just...," she trailed off, sighing.

"Poppy said my hand would be a little tender if I used my wand." She shrugged. "I suppose she was right."

Flexing her fingers, she sat on the chair opposite him. It was silent for a moment, and they listened to the crackling of the fire as it reflected across their faces. Then, abruptly, Severus turned to Hermione and asked, "Have you heard any word from Potter?"

Apparently, the man was unaccustomed to segues.

"Nothing about the Malfoys," Hermione offered, twirling her wand in her left hand. "And as far as the 'ghost' traitor in the Order goes...he doesn't have the slightest thought as to who it could be."

Severus looked disappointed, but nodded solemnly. "All the more reason for us to be cautious."

"Yes," she agreed. "And the Headmistress? Does she have any insight on who it could be?"

Severus shook his head. "Not that I am aware."

Hermione looked away from his gaze and stared into the fire. At length, she asked without turning from the hearth, "Severus, after the War, after everything happened with Voldemort, where did you go?"

Again, that same mild startlement. "It does not matter," he said finally, softly.

She looked at him boldly. "Yes, it does. I want to know."

He closed his eyes then. Imagining, perhaps reliving, what had happened during those years.

"Everyone thought that you were dead."

And then she said more quietly, "_I_ thought that you were dead."

Severus looked at her, a sudden nakedness in his black eyes, as he waited, unsure of what to say.

"I had dreams," Hermione continued, "...dreams of you. Nightmares, really," she amended, turning back to the dancing flames. "You were calling out to me...but there was nothing I could do. I tried to fight the snake - Nagini, but I would always wake, just as she sunk her yellow fangs into your neck. I...I couldn't save you."

Severus continued to stare at her, clearly baffled by her revelation.

And then she turned to him, her eyes pleading with sincerity. "What happened?"

Severus swallowed thickly and whispered, "I ran. I ran away."

He spoke the words so quietly that Hermione leaned forward, straining to hear.

"I don't understand," she said with confusion. "Why?"

He glanced away, embarrassment creeping onto his pale face, and then stood to face the hearth. Resting his forearm on the mantle, he leaned his weight against it and said, "Who would have wanted me alive?"

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "How can you say that? After everything you've done for the Order - "

"Imagine yourself in that moment!" Severus suddenly yelled, startling Hermione. "Everything near and dear to me, gone! My only friend and mentor, killed at my own hands, and the entire wizarding world waiting to slap that guilt right in my face! I could not bare to look into the eyes of those who would so readily accuse me, who would not want to understand, who would think me a murderer!"

"But - "

"I had to get away," he continued, more quietly now. "I had no desire to return to society, no desire for the finer intricacies of life, none of it. Nothing mattered. I planned to end my days in solitude - a fitting conclusion for me," he added ruefully.

Hermione stared at his rigid back, suddenly unsure of what to say.

He turned around then slowly, methodically, and looked at Hermione with a strange burning intensity.

"But then," he whispered, unsure if he should continue, his dark eyes bare and hiding nothing, "...I had a dream."

Hermione's heart stopped as the fire crackled loudly. She remained absolutely still as it suddenly began to dawn on her.

"You...you needed help - you were calling out to me," he swallowed. "Nagini's stained fangs...I could not get that image of you out of my head."

She stared at him then, half believing.

"And so I came back."

Hermione opened her mouth to say something, before realizing she had no idea what to say. So instead, she stood, and took a few tiny steps toward him. He looked down at her, his form relaying his quiet strength.

"Severus," she whispered, "I need to understand something. You, and I," she gestured between the two of them with her good hand, "...we both had the same dream about one another? How is that even possible? What does it mean?"

He met her eyes and held them, looking quietly down at her. "I do not know."

She didn't look away, but chewed her lip nervously until she summoned the courage to slide her arms around his waist. Resting her head tentatively against his chest, hearing the thumping of his great heart, she closed her eyes. "This War," she murmured, as she felt his arms wrap hesitantly around her. "...look what it has done to us. So much pain, so much loss..."

And then his hands moved to her shoulders, and he disengaged slightly. Hermione's eyes searched his, raw and unprotected.

"You came back."

A small smile tugged at the edges of his lips.

"I came back."

He lowered his head then, a black strand of hair falling loosely across his face. When his lips were a whisper's breath from her own, he hesitated, uncertain. But Hermione stood on the tips of her toes, and closed the distance between them with a kiss that was so soft, so innocent, it almost hurt.

They pulled apart reluctantly, uncertainly; Hermione's feet returning to their proper place to the ground. And then Severus took her face in his big hands, holding her steady as he looked at her, stunned, touched, and dumbfounded. Hermione regarded him with penetrating eyes, and something stirred there. A yearning, a suppressed desire. And suddenly his mouth was over hers, demanding the physical contact of her lips. Almost like a primal instinct, Hermione pressed herself against him, lacing her arms around his neck and entwining her fingers in his hair. The kiss was longing, desperate, and frantic.

But above all things; it was genuinely sincere.

A loud pounding at the entrance to Hermione's quarters made Hermione and Severus jump apart, startled.

Hermione's eyes darted from Severus to the wooden door.

Again, a frantic pounding.

"Hermione!" The muffled voice of Minerva McGonagall called. "Please, open up! It's an emergency!"

Nearly tripping over her Persian rug, Hermione stumbled quickly to the door, released the handle, and pulled the heavy object back on its hinges.

"Headmistress?"

Minerva's eyes were wide and frightened. The razor tension in her voice made Hermione's heart begin to pound loudly in her ears.

"Severus?" The headmistress questioned with a raised brow, as Severus crossed the dimly lighted room to stand behind Hermione. "I've been searching for you everywhere - "

"He brought me my wand," Hermione interrupted, uncomfortably. "I...I dropped it in the lake and - "

"Oh, of course," Minerva dismissed, waving her hand noncommittally in the air. "I've been meaning to check in on you, Hermione. You gave Poppy quite a scare."

"Headmistress, really - "

Minerva brushed her off. "I need to speak with both of you in my office immediately. It is of the utmost importance."

Severus stepped out from behind Hermione with eyes that were intense and focused. There was no trace whatsoever of the tenderness they had only just shown. "What has happened?"

Hermione quickly grabbed her cloak and flung it over her back as she exited her quarters, closing the heavy door behind her. She jogged for a few paces, struggling to keep up with Minerva's brisk pace.

"A matter of Order security has been breached."

Hermione raised her brow. "The traitor?"

Minerva offered a curt nod. "I would prefer if we were in the security of my office before I divulge anything more."

Hermione softly agreed as her heart pounded wildly with the things named and nameless that could have happened - the terrifying implications, and the questions still unanswered. They continued on quickly in a heavy silence, until at last they approached the stone gargoyle. Quickly uttering the password, Minerva stepped onto the spiral stairs with Severus standing back for Hermione to enter. As they ascended, Hermione's heart pounded ever faster, and she vaguely wondered if might break free of her ribcage at any given moment.

Brushing quickly into Minerva's office, Hermione stopped mid-stride, causing Severus to literally bump into her from behind, as she took in Harry's solemn form standing completely still by the Headmistress's immaculate cedar desk.

"Harry?" Hermione asked incredulously, rushing forward to embrace him. "What's going on? Are you okay?"

Harry nodded. "I've fine."

He closed his eyes and hugged her tightly. When he opened them again, Severus was glaring down maliciously.

Clearing his throat, he released her and turned to Minerva. "Have you told them?"

The Headmistress shook her head. "No. We didn't need any innocent ears overhearing matters that do not concern them." And then she scowled, sternly, "I am personally going over to George's joke shop and demanding that he stop selling those Extendable Ears."

Hermione cracked a small smile as she waited for Minerva to continue. But when the Headmistress stood solemnly, looking at the stone floor, Harry broke in.

"Rebecca Brandon was found murdered this afternoon."

He looked to Severus significantly. "The killing curse."

Hermione brought her hand to her mouth as she stifled a gasp.

Rebecca Brandon, she knew, was a talented Auror who had been at Grimmauld Place the night that Severus had returned. While Hermione hadn't known her personally, by word of mouth she knew her to be incredibly bright, friendly, and Harry, himself, had worked with her on a number of missions for the Department.

Severus stepped forward then, his face so full of contempt, it chilled the room.

"Where was she found?"

Harry's green eyes reluctantly met Severus. "In her home."

"But," Hermione stammered, "...everyone that is in the Order...their homes are under the Fidelus Charm. How - "

And then she stopped herself as her eyes widened with fear. "The traitor is handing out information?"

Minerva nodded confidently. "We think so."

"There is evidence that she was tortured," Harry supplied angrily, "...and then, there's the fact that she was muggle-born."

Hermione looked up sharply, as Severus' dark eyes flashed at Harry with that same chilling contempt. And with disgust, he spat, "Who benefits?"

Minerva sighed. "Pureblood supremacists have always been mad, warped, and twisted. But there is certainly a pattern emerging here - the muggle deaths, Rebecca's murder...," she trailed off sadly.

Harry swallowed. "The Malfoys," he whispered, as his eyes scanned each person in turn. "It's them."

Hermione nodded in wordless mutual comprehension. Swallowing, she whispered, "It has to be."

Severus closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "While suggestive, it is not conclusive. We have to be open to the possibility that this is more than just a bitter family that despises muggle-borns. The deaths, the traitor - whom I am assuming is their informant... all of it is being strategically planned. This is more than just a four person party."

"But who else?" Minerva asked, folding her weary arms across her chest.

Hermione frowned in thought as she looked to her green-eyed friend. "Start with the archives, Harry. All known Death Eaters. Those that are missing - there's a fairly good chance that they're helping Lucius with whatever insane design he's trying to accomplish. Maybe you can find something that way." She rubbed the back of her neck and winced slightly. "Who were the Aurors that were stationed to watch the Malfoys the day they disappeared? That would be worth looking into. Maybe someone _helped _them disappear."

Severus nodded. "And, of course, until the perpetrator is found, the Order will be obsolete."

"Yes," Minerva agreed. "As we know it, the Order of the Phoenix will only consist of the four of us. No one else can know."

Hermione frowned. "But at the same time, won't that make other Order members suspicious? If the Order disbands completely, whomever the traitor is, surely he will know that he's been outed in someway."

"I have no doubt that he will suspect something," Severus said, his eyes flashing darkly. "But that is a chance we must take. No suspicion is worth someone's life."

Hermione looked up at Severus with a soft smile.

_How could anyone have ever doubted this man?_

"Harry," Minerva asked sincerely, "What can we do to help you?"

Harry scratched the back of his unruly hair and sighed. "I'll have to be the one to check the Ministry archives. No one else will have access except Hermione, and she can't leave Hogwarts while she's still teaching."

And then a comprehension of sorts crossed his face and he turned to Hermione with an odd note of contrition in his voice. "Maybe, though, once classes get out for the term, you can head back to Germany and - "

"Absolutely out of the question," Severus interrupted with a sharp fury in his voice.

When Harry raised a thick brow, Severus continued angrily, "You would send her into the Death Eaters' lair knowing full well they know of her connection to _you_?"

Genuinely startled, Harry appeared as though he had just been slapped in the face. "Not to mention," Severus continued incredulously, "...the fact that she's Muggle-born, and someone of that blood status only just turned up murdered in the safety of her own home?"

"I wasn't implying she go by herself!" Harry snapped, suddenly jolting to life. "I would not send her alone!"

"You would not send her at _all_," Severus whispered deadly.

"Hey," Hermione interrupted levelly, stepping between the two men. "_Enough_. This is for neither one of you to decide."

And then she turned to Severus, her eyes intense and bottomless. "Look," she said, keeping her voice as gentle as she could as she stepped toward him. "If Harry needs me to go, then - "

"I suppose if _Potter_ asked you take a hex for him, you'd jump ever emphatically in the way."

"If he asked - you're making jokes about this?" And then, feeling slightly reckless as she saw the immediate regret in his countenance from the cheap analogy, she reached out and placed her hand on his chest, calming him.

Suddenly, the room felt a little chilled.

Harry furrowed his brow in confusion, and then cleared his throat and looked to the stone floor, awkwardly. Immediately, Hermione dropped her small hand.

"What I _was_ trying to suggest," Harry said, while looking at Hermione with an odd expression. "...was that you and Professor Snape _both_ go." He spread his hands out helplessly. "I'm not sure what else we can do. Our resources have been all but eradicated until the traitor is found."

Severus opened his mouth to protest, but Minerva stepped in and fixed him with a stern gaze. "We will _all_ do whatever is required of us." And then she turned to Harry, knowing full well how her gaze carried with Severus, and placing an aged hand on her former student's shoulder, she led him toward a high Gothic window, the snow falling silently outside. "In regards to the Ministry archives, I do have a few ideas that would help for brevity sake, if for nothing else..."

And as Harry and Minerva talked quietly in the corner, Hermione looked to Severus, suddenly feeling inexplicably shy. She swallowed hard, and raised her eyes to meet his, but his face was as expressionless as ever.

_They always fail to mention these parts in the novels_, Hermione thought, ruefully. _What does one say after such a passionate exchange? The palpable way things shift and change, the awkward silences..._

Severus, however, appeared rather nonplussed about the entire affair.

His eyes swept over her briefly, taking in her nervous swallow and trembling hands. At length, he glanced over her shoulder to Minerva and asked in a disenchanted tone, "Are we finished here?"

The Headmistress and Harry both looked up, though Harry's eyes flashed intently at Hermione; the questions looming there practically hurdling themselves at her in endless waves as she lowered her gaze, feeling oddly guilty.

"Go ahead," Minerva said, waving her hand dismissively in the air. "We'll talk Germany more as the week concludes and the term finishes."

Severus inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment as he made his way toward the spiral stairs, and looked briefly over his shoulder to see if Hermione were following. Somewhat reluctantly, Hermione crossed the expanse of the office and quickly embraced Harry. He brought his mouth close to her ear, and as she disengaged, he whispered, "We need to talk."

She swallowed, her eyes widening slightly. And then she turned from him and flashed a small smile at Minerva before heading after Severus. "Good night, Headmistress."

They walked in silence through the dimly lighted corridors; Hermione's little feet working twice as fast to keep up with Severus. As her ears processed the soft sounds of her footfalls against the stone floor, her mind was working in overdrive. With everything that was unfolding with the Malfoys, her own near death experience a mere night before, her impromptu kiss with Severus, and Harry's certain suspicions - she felt suddenly overwhelmed with the weight of it all.

Hermione snapped out of the moment's reverie as she, quite literally, collided into Severus as he came to a stop in front of her rustic wooden door.

"Sorry," she amended, looking at her feet with embarrassment.

He raised a dark eyebrow. "Are you alright?"

She looked at him curiously. "Of course."

And then he gave her an exasperated smile that was so unfamiliar and endearing that she physically restrained herself from throwing herself at him.

"I called your name three times."

"Oh," she offered, unintelligently. "I was, er, lost in my thoughts."

"I see." And then he cleared his throat. "About earlier..."

Hermione's eyes widened slightly with worry.

"...my intention was not to belittle your skill or ability in front of the Headmistress, or...Potter. It was, rather, out of...genuine concern."

Hermione blinked and wondered if she would ever get used to this side of Severus. It was so _human_ and raw that she was taken completely aback. He had been forever ingrained into her mind as the prejudice Potion's master with impossibly high expectations for far too long.

She fixed him in her mind in that moment - the black hair, the impossibly fathomless eyes, the high cheekbones. "No," she said softly, "I know you didn't mean it that way. It's just...," she sighed, rubbing her eyes with her small hands, " - I already have _two_ brothers. Harry has only just gotten used to the idea that I can actually go somewhere on my own without being in danger of some sort of ambush; and Ron - well, Ron was always impossibly overprotective."

And then she met his gaze and held it. "I don't need another big brother."

Severus was silent for a long moment, a slight shift in his penetrating eyes.

"What _do_ you need?"

Hermione was utterly surprised by his boldness, but then she closed the little space left between them as he gathered her into his arms and met her with a fervent kiss. A moment later - seconds, minutes, hours - Hermione couldn't be quite sure, she felt her body temperature rise, and pulled back with the little restraint she still had.

"Severus, I..."

But she was cut off by brisk footfalls that were rapidly approaching in the dim little corridor. Hermione immediately took a step back from Severus, and began playing nervously with her fingers, which had become somewhat clammy. Minerva McGonagall rounded the bend and stepped into the light from the torch on the wall, her eyes somewhat scrutinizing behind her small spectacles.

"Severus," she said as she fixed a wiry strand of hair back into her meticulous bun. "I apologize for seeking you out in this manner, but Albus as requested to speak with you, privately."

Hermione raised an eyebrow in confusion, until she understood the Headmistress meant Dumbledore's portrait.

Severus swallowed, thickly. "Of course, Headmistress." And then he turned to Hermione. "Goodnight, Professor Granger. I will look at that excerpt you inquired about another time."

And before Hermione even had time to act the part, Severus had turned from her and was following the Headmistress into the gradual darkness that eventually consumed them both. Smiling softly to herself, Hermione quietly whispered the password and disappeared into her quarters.

* * *

Severus was mentally trying to quiet his pounding heart as he followed Minerva back to her office. _How could I have been such a fool? Locked in a passionate embrace with Hermione in an open corridor where students and professors could see? _He mentally slapped himself as he continued along in heavy silence - severely perturbed he had nearly given himself away.

They reached the gargoyle at length, and Minerva turned to face Severus with a curious gaze. "I have some business to attend to with Pomona and Oliver," she said levelly. "Take all the time that you need, Severus." And with a tight frown, she stated the password, and moved to walk away from him.

"Something is upsetting you," Severus observed.

She stopped in her tracks, but did not look back. "Severus," she said after a lengthy sigh, "...this war was supposed to have been over years ago. I am too old for this."

Severus looked to his hands a moment before returning his gaze to the back side of her head. "Albus said that very thing to me on more than one occasion," he offered. And when she turned to face him, he continued reluctantly, "Our differences, notwithstanding, I have no doubt you will point us in the direction we should take."

Minerva's gray eyes watered as she allowed a weak smile. "You know, Severus; I can't believe that I ever doubted you."

And as she batted at her eyes with her aged hands, she smiled again, and then disappeared into the darkness of the castle.

Severus swallowed thickly and stepped onto the ascending spiral stairs. He steadied himself by attempting to count how many times he had come to this particular office, but gave up when he realized it had to be in the thousands. The stairs settled into their final destination with a shuddering groan, and Severus crossed the dim threshold and into the Headmistress's office where he had only stood a few moments prior.

"Ah, Severus," came the familiar but chilling voice of Albus Dumbledore. "How very good to see you."

Severus turned to Albus' portrait and inclined his head in recognition, though his fingers were trembling around his wand. "Headmaster."

Dumbledore smiled behind his lengthy beard as he sat happily on an obliging sofa in the portrait. "It has been far too long, wouldn't you say, my boy?"

Severus blinked. "It was been sufficiently long."

"Oh, come now, Severus," Dumbledore said with a twinkle in his eye. Severus raised an eyebrow. _Paintings can twinkle? _"There's no need to be surly with me. You know fully well that I am extremely pleased that you have done everything I ever asked of you - including ending my life. There are not many I would trust with such a task."

Severus looked to his wand for a moment, twirling it in his fingers, before he looked back to the portrait. "You wished to see me, Headmaster?"

Dumbledore sighed. "I see you have not forgiven yourself for what I asked you to do."

"It is unforgivable."

"I," Dumbledore said as he got to his feet, "...beg to differ. Those around you seem to have forgiven you. The gossip from the other portraits has informed me as such."

Severus swallowed. "It does not matter what others think. You should know me well enough by now that I do not care how others see me."

Dumbledore raised his half-moon spectacles. "Did you not inform Professor Granger this very night that you could not bare to face the wizarding world after the War? That they would judge you?"

Severus snapped to life with narrowed eyes. "How do you know that? How could you possibly know that?"

Dumbledore shrugged helplessly. "Really, Severus. We portraits have little to do but listen in on the comings and goings of Hogwarts. Surely, you know this."

Severus mentally slapped himself as he tried to regain his composure. "What was it that was so important that you needed to speak with me about?"

Dumbledore chuckled happily. "I suppose I know a bid for a change of subject when I hear one." And then he grew solemn as he cleaned his glasses on his midnight robes. "The Malfoys," he stated simply. "I am deeply concerned. Poor Minerva is running herself into a state, and I fear that you are the best man for the job."

"Indeed," Severus scowled. "And how many times have you used that line on me, Headmaster?"

Dumbledore shrugged. "A fair few. But you know that I am right about this, Severus."

Severus nodded. "Yes. I would not allow Lucius to destroy what we have worked so long to protect."

Dumbledore placed his glasses in their rightful place. "Every bit the hero," he said fondly as he clasped his hands together in front of him. "I always wondered why you were so jealous of James Potter when clearly - "

"Headmaster," Severus interrupted. "What would you have me do that I am already not? I plan to return to Germany to search - "

"Yes, I know what you are planning to do," Dumbledore interrupted somewhat tersely. "And I know you well enough to know that you have no intention of bringing Professor Granger with you."

Severus swallowed. "She is a liability. She could be used as bait - "

"You underestimate her, Severus."

"I do not," Severus countered. "I merely wish to..."

"Protect her?" Dumbledore asked with a raised eyebrow.

It was silent for several moments before Severus offered a slight nod.

"Yes."

"And why is that?" Dumbledore asked, genuinely intrigued.

Severus' black eyes met pale blue eyes that were, _damn it,_ still twinkling. "You know me well enough, Headmaster, that you do not need me to answer that question."

Dumbledore scratched his beard. "Then why are you ashamed, my boy? Hermione Granger is a lovely woman who's intelligence matches your own. I do not see why you should hide your feelings."

"She is half my age."

Dumbledore shrugged. "That has never stopped a witch or wizard before."

"She was my _student_."

"But has not been for quite some time. I do not see anything inappropriate in the situation."

Severus swallowed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Do you worry that she does not reciprocate these feelings?" Dumbledore asked.

Severus thought back the corridor he had only just abandoned moments before. Hermione's soft lips tugging at his, her tiny hands tangling their way into his hair, the heat of her body pressing against him.

"It's not that - "

"Then what?" Dumbledore pressed.

When Severus stared out the Gothic window in silence, Dumbledore offered, "Lily Potter?"

Severus shook his head slowly. "No. Not Lily. For a long time, yes. It was her. But...hanging onto Lily is much the same as hanging onto a dream when you arise in the morning. It is unattainable." He paused and looked at his wand thoughtfully. "But then, sometimes, you wake up and see the glory of a new day, and you realize, you don't wish for that dream any longer."

"How very poignant, Severus," Dumbledore said with a smile. "Though I still do not understand your hesitance."

"She deserves better than me."

Dumbledore chuckled, and Severus looked up sharply. "You're joking about this?"

"Oh, no, my boy," Dumbledore said as he waved his hand dismissively in the air. "I, however, disagree and think you both deserve one another sufficiently well."

With a small smile, he added, "I have never met two more stubborn, head-strong individuals in all my life."

As Severus stared at Dumbledore with a deep frown, the former Headmaster offered, "Go to Germany, Severus. Go and stop Lucius from whatever horrific thing he is attempting to do. Take Hermione Granger with you. Her intelligence and expertise with a wand will make you glad you did."

And as Severus turned to leave the room, he paused. "I...do have a question about one thing."

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "Oh?"

Severus took a deep breath. "Is it possible...for two individuals to have the same dream? Not just any dream - but where each person is seeing the other in the same situation?"

Dumbledore frowned in confusion. "I do suppose so, Severus. Though I'm not entirely sure what you're speaking of."

Severus pinched his nose and closed his eyes. "Almost like the connection between the Dark Lo -," he cleared his throat. " - Voldemort and Potter, but without lodging a piece of one's soul into the other?"

And then Dumbledore's eyes twinkled gloriously. "It doesn't always take a Horcrux to do that, Severus. How do you know a part of her soul isn't already lodged within you?"

Severus' black eyes widened in utter surprise as he took an unprepared step backward. "I did not mean - "

But Dumbledore smiled magnificently. Faking a yawn, he curled up onto his sofa and closed his blue eyes.

Severus grunted at the Headmaster's comment and stepped onto the descending stairs. With black eyes focusing intensely ahead of him, he felt Hermione's lips on his mouth; and shivered.

* * *

_A/N: This chapter was incredibly_ _fun to write. And everyone should have been extremely pleased with the chapter title. (Hey, I'm nothing if not subtle.) So I hope everyone enjoyed reading this chapter as much as I did writing it. As always, please review. I also would like to propose a question. (Hey, if this is how I have to get reviews...then so be it.) Should Severus' patronus change? I have reasons that could make it go either way, but I'd really like to hear what everyone thinks. It certainly wouldn't be a huge plot line, if it did go that way, but rather, something merely intriguing. Let me know!_


	12. Chapter 12

_"It is one of the blessings of old friends that you can afford to be stupid with them."_

- Ralph Waldo Emerson

* * *

**Chapter 12: The Problem**

* * *

"The funny thing with knowing someone better than you know yourself," Harry said as he leaned nonchalantly against an unoccupied desk in an empty, echoing classroom, "...is that once in a great while, they surprise you."

Hermione swallowed hard as she reluctantly met his gaze, much like a child refusing to take their medicine. Somehow, as her stomach clenched tightly in anticipation, she knew this wasn't the worst of it.

The week hadn't started out with much promise, which wasn't much of a surprise. If nearly being killed wasn't enough, the shocking discovery that a fellow Order member had been mysteriously murdered was certainly more than a wake-up call. And so, childishly, Hermione assumed that things could only get better.

_How utterly naive of me_, she thought ruefully as she continued to stare at Harry's stern face in silence. The silence strategy was, she mused, better than babbling uncontrollably.

Harry had owled Hermione immediately after the "Order" meeting in Minerva's office; reiterating what he had whispered to her as she followed Severus down the spiral stairs - _We need to talk_. She briefly entertained the idea of ignoring him, but that compunction was immediately dashed by the three Ministry owls that followed Kobic - all stating the same message. She knew how he must have felt in that moment; a pawn in an inexplicable betrayal. But for the life of her, she could not figure out how to explain to him the feelings that were in her heart.

And so he had taken it upon himself to come to her at Hogwarts, certain that whatever was going on in the intricate nerves of her soul, he needed to know about it. It was a rare and unpredictable visit - a disturbing invasion of her privacy, she knew; but she couldn't fault him for it. Had the situation been reversed, she more than likely would have been pounding on his office door at the Ministry, if not with her hands around his neck, demanding that he tell her what was going on.

_But how to explain something that I don't even understand completely myself?_

With the exception of the formal niceties that were generally termed as 'proper social etiquette' - and that was certainly a generous description, Hermione hadn't spoken with Severus since he left her breathless on the threshold to her quarters. Did he regret what had happened? She had caught his gaze at the Head Table on two separate occasions, his eyes stirring something within her that caused her palms to sweat. If he, indeed, regretted his actions, then speaking to Harry on the entire affair almost felt like pouring salt on the wound.

It wouldn't accomplish anything.

Hermione was so wound up with trying to decide which course of action to take that it didn't take any acting at all to look as though she had been taken completely off guard a moment later, as Harry had suddenly fallen completely silent, and was looking directly at her with one of his more fearsome scowls.

"Come on, Hermione. Were you even listening to me?"

She looked at him helplessly. "Sorry, Harry. I really am. I just...I don't know what you want me to say."

"I want you to tell me the truth," he said exasperatedly as he crossed the empty classroom and stood in front of her. "What is going on with you? Something is distinctly _different_," he emphasized. "And what the hell was that with Snape in McGonagall's office the other day? You were_ touching_ him," he accused with a pointed finger.

"_Professor _Snape, Harry."

"Bloody hell, Hermione!" He swore in frustration, while waving his hands wildly in the air. "Fine! _Professor _Snape, then! What was that? And don't you _dare_ say that it was nothing."

He looked at her critically then, with emerald eyes that were as penetrating as ever; waiting perhaps for the final blow of a suspicion that was eerily correct.

Hermione sighed internally and fingered the hem of her sleeve. "Harry, I honestly don't understand it fully."

He raised his thick eyebrows in anticipation. "Understand what?"

He watched her face carefully. He saw her considering to reply with incomprehension, to wave it off as something trivial. And then he saw the temptation to fight back, to argue indignantly. But after a moment, her pale face finally resolved into resignation as she looked at him sincerely and whispered, "Professor Snape."

A dawn of dread passed over Harry as he steadied himself. "What of him?"

She appeared to be struggling for words and closed her eyes.

Ever articulate, Hermione's reluctance made Harry's heart pound faster.

"I think...," she swallowed and looked to her feet. "I think, I have feelings for him."

She must have expected an immediate retaliation, because she physically braced herself for the blow that she knew would surely follow. But when nothing but silence engulfed her, she looked up at Harry curiously.

"Harry?"

His brow was furrowed - no doubt contemplating what she had just said, wondering if the world had at last gone completely mad. But he stood rigid and still, his eyes shifting with the implications of it all.

She took a tentative step toward him and touched his forearm. "Harry?"

The physical contact seemed to jolt him to life. And with a pronounced look of betrayal gracing his features, he took a step away from her, jerking his arm from her hand.

"Feelings?" He spat, incredulously. "You break up with Ron and then you tell me that you have feelings for, above all people, _Snape_? Is this some kind of twisted joke?"

Hermione's eyes widened slightly in shock and then narrowed maliciously. "Don't bring Ron into this, Harry. He's got nothing to do with it."

And then the guns started blazing.

"He's got everything to do with it!" Harry shouted as he advanced on her, causing Hermione to back into a rogue desk. "You told me that you didn't believe in love. Hell, you told the entire Auror Department! And now what you're saying is that everything you ever told me was a _lie?_"

Hermione looked as though she had been struck with a powerful blow to her face. "Is that what you think?" She asked stingingly. "After everything we've been though - I've done nothing but lie to you?"

But Harry was panting with a mutinous fury that was only just being unleashed. "Then what do you call it?" He challenged. "Saying something and then later going against it...I'd say that fits the definition rather well," he concluded acidly.

Hermione moved with such speed and precision that it took a moment for Harry's optic nerve to transmit what was happening. Hermione was inches in front of him, jabbing at his chest with a small but surprisingly strong index finger as she whispered in a deadly tone, "I never said that I loved him, Harry."

And then the volume in her voice grew in an alarming crescendo. So much, in fact, that Harry took two full steps backward.

"How _dare_ you accuse me when you don't know anything of what I've been through. Approaching me with your righteous indignation - it was _you_ who came to _me_ wanting to talk, not the other way around! What the hell are you playing at?"

Harry's eyes narrowed. "What _you've_ been through?" He feigned mock surprise with an exaggerated gesture in her direction. "What in Merlin's name is that supposed to mean? Why don't you put yourself in my shoes for about five seconds and realize that you're telling me that you fancy a man who loved my mother! And you blame _me_ for finding that _slightly_ odd? Hermione, the man is twice your age!"

"Oh, don't play the martyr with me, Harry," Hermione spat with surprising vehemence. "You don't get it, do you? You got your 'happily ever after'. You're moving on with your life. And me?" She gestured to herself as she suddenly quietened, as though a light switch had just been flipped off. "I'm still here."

Harry's blazing eyes softened instantly. "Is that what this is all about?" He asked softly, incredulously. "Ginny and me?"

Hermione hesitated, taking a brief moment to steady and calm herself. "It...includes you and Ginny, yes. But...there's much more to it than that." She sighed loudly, rubbing her temple with her index and middle finger. "I'm telling you something extremely personal, Harry, and as my best friend, I expect you to take me seriously."

Harry offered his best courtesy laugh. "Oh, believe me, Hermione; I am trying. But when you tell me that you're prancing around after Snape with some bizarre schoolgirl crush - "

The moment the words left his mouth, he realized he had gone too far. The regret in his eyes was immediate and he reached out to her, but she took a step back, dramatically pulling her arm away from him. "Is that what you think?" She asked, suppressing a choking sob. "That I'm _lusting_ after the man that loved your mother?"

"Hermione, you're twisting my words," he said solemnly. "That's not what I meant."

"Then what?" She asked finally, blinking furiously.

He looked at her helplessly, unsure of how to console his best friend for the first time in recollection. After a moment he offered softly, "Ron still asks about you. I don't think he ever really - "

"Stop, Harry," Hermione interrupted, holding her hands up and shaking her head. "Just stop. Are you even listening to a word I'm saying? This isn't about Ron."

"And why not?" Harry countered. "You have a history and relationship with him that is unrivaled. Why couldn't you make it work?"

Hermione laughed viciously. "Do you realize how ridiculous that sounds? So," she placed a hand on her hip, "...according to you, you and I could have had a romantic relationship that would have worked out because, as you say, our history was _'unrivaled'_."

He frowned, dismissing her comment. "When he's back from Quidditch - "

"What aren't you understanding here, Harry?" Hermione asked angrily. "I didn't come here to talk about Ron. I know it's been just as hard for you to let that go, but it's over. It's been over for years."

"And so your next best prospect is _Snape_?"

The sound of Hermione's hand making contact with Harry's face echoed throughout the empty classroom as she stood before him in horrified shock. Panting heavily, she looked up at Harry with watery eyes, biting down on her lower lip to keep it from quivering. The hurt and betrayal that was etched in every moment and non-movement of her body shook Harry to core. He expected her to swear, to yell in a shrill voice about how he was a horrible person. He expected her to do anything. But her brown eyes widened as she breathed heavily, and she said nothing at all.

As if to emphasize her point, she turned from him, and reached with a sweaty hand for the handle of the classroom door.

"Wait!" Harry shouted, reaching forward to stop her. "Hermione, wait."

He grabbed her upper arm firmly but she wrestled out of it and looked at him with tear tracks slowly trailing over her lightly freckled face. "Leave me alone, Harry."

Again, he reached for her arm, but she shirked away from him as though he might actually hurt her. "Hermione," Harry pleaded. "Please, I'm not leaving until we're on good terms."

"Then it looks as though you'll be staying at Hogwarts for quite some time. Might be best to owl Ginny," she added acidly.

He was reaching for her again, but checked himself mid-air at her comment, his hand pausing and then dropping to his side. And then he grew angry again. "What did you honestly expect, Hermione? That I'd give you my blessing? You said it yourself on more than one occasion that the man was a git - "

"You know why things had to be as they were," Hermione accused, whirling on him. "That isn't fair."

"But you expect the past to be forgotten," he pointed out. "His patronus...it's still my mother."

Hermione closed her eyes and got out a shaky laugh. "So first you're telling me it's impossible that I could have feelings for him, and now you're reversing it. For someone who was so readily eager to call me a liar - "

"Why Snape?" He interrupted.

Hermione raised a calculating eyebrow. "Why Ginny?"

He appeared taken aback by her question, as though the answer were the most obvious thing in the world. "That's not fair - "

"Then explain the difference to me, Harry."

He looked at her face then; utterly lost, as a myriad of new doors opened with strange possibilities of this brown-haired woman he thought he knew so well, doors he never even knew had existed. His eyes were pleading - begging her to reconsider her feelings; to return to something familiar, something he could handle. But she stood firmly, unblinking, as she swallowed thickly and grasped the cold handle to the classroom door.

"Goodbye, Harry," she whispered with great effort. "Contact me when I am to return to Germany."

The door slammed dramatically and echoed with a resounding _crack_ throughout the classroom. Harry stood solemnly, brow furrowed, and thought numbly of his best friend.

"Hermione," he almost whispered to himself, closing his eyes and walking unsteadily to the closed door. Reaching for the handle with his right hand, he winced as he touched the red mark on his cheek with the other.

With the last twist of he jagged knife in his chest, he walked out the door and thought of Snape.

* * *

Hermione ran without seeing to her quarters. She knew the route well enough - even had the changing staircases down to the point of memory. So as her eyes blinked and watered furiously to the point of blindness, Hermione pressed on ever upward.

There are sudden rips. There are tears in life, deep knife wounds that slash through flesh. Life is one way; then suddenly, without warning, it is changed into another. And then there are those moments when life simply unravels. A loose thread pulls. A seam gives way. The change is slow at first, nearly imperceptible. And then, with just the right about of pressure, everything collapses in one paramount moment.

As Hermione ran, choking on the sobs that she refused to release, she knew it was one of those moments.

_How could I have been so foolish?_

The revelation must have been insurmountably heavy for Harry. And could she truly blame him for his reaction? To expect that he would give his blessing so that she could start who-knows-what sort of relationship with the man that had at one point in time, if not still, loved his mother, was something out of what you would find on a muggle daytime television show.

It was too soon, too fast for him.

But that still did nothing for the fact that she still felt hurt by his lack of comfort or advise.

As she scaled the final stairway, she sighed internally. She knew better than to except more from Harry than he was capable, and she quietly berated herself for her blunder. Since the War and the subsequent fall of Voldemort, the wizarding world in its entirety had put Harry on a golden pedestal from which he was never likely to be removed.

Harry could do no wrong, say no wrong.

The stories that flooded the _Daily Prophet_ after the War had even been quite entertaining. They had to be. With so much death and loss, they were the only coping mechanism that got Hermione through each day, despite the strange absurdity of it all. Hermione and Ginny would giggle uncontrollably as they took turns reading of Harry's heroics, much to his grudging dismay.

"Oh, this one's a real gem," Ginny said with excitement on one such night, as Hermione looked up with a grin over a thick tome. Clearing her throat, Ginny quoted, "_And one of the latest reports comes from Susan Finchley, a fourth year Hufflepuff, who says that she witnessed Harry Potter lifting a great boulder that had fallen on one of the younger students who had been trying to escape. Said Finchley, 'He was positively struggling with the weight of the boulder, his arms taut and straining, but he eventually lifted the great weight, while simultaneously casting a stunning spell at a nearby Death Eater."_

Both girls had resolved into an uncontrollable fit of giggles as Harry cursed. "Blood hell, people are actually buying into that rubbish? And why wouldn't I have just _levitated _the boulder?"

Hermione shrugged but replied pointedly, "Evidently they wanted to see your 'taut and straining arms'."

Harry adamantly discouraged the false heroics whenever possibly, angry and embarrassed. For the most part, people tended to forget that Harry was just your normal, average, everyday guy. _And_, Hermione thought ruefully as she rounded the corner to her private quarters, _I just fell into that trap as well._

Hermione knew Harry better than she knew anyone. His temperament, his likes, dislikes - everything. She knew how he would respond to certain situations. _Well_, she back peddled, remembering what had transpired only mere moments ago, _generally_. She thought back to the night right before what should have been their seventh year of school, when she had gone to Privet Drive with the other members of the Order on the mission of the 'Seven Potters'. It was Hermione who had been the one that knew Harry wouldn't go willingly with the plan.

And she prided herself on that.

_So what the hell was I thinking tonight?_

She had just reached her door and was opening her mouth to utter the password when Oliver Wood rounded the bend - spotting her immediately; and with a dashing grin, he jogged over with his annoyingly straight and blindingly white teeth.

"Hermione! Hey!" He breathed as he stopped in front of her. "Excited to have a few weeks of peace and quiet for the holiday? No students running around will sure be a nice change of pace." And then his handsome face frowned as he took in her red eyes and the tear tracks on her cheeks.

"Hey, everything all right?"

But Hermione's mind was still stuck on his first pleasantry - the glorious absence of students.

They had shot out of Hogwarts earlier that day like an exploding cannon; toting trunks, clutching cages, and flinging scarfs around their necks as they hurried to catch the train. Hermione had been genuinely surprised by the amount of relief she felt in having a few weeks of solitude to mull over more pressing matters.

And then she caught back up with him. "Oh, I'm fine, Oliver. I...hit my funny bone in just the right place," she said, grabbing her elbow and doing her best impersonation of wincing. "It stung like the devil."

Oliver nodded sincerely. "Let's see it then."

And as Hermione's eyes widened with surprise and uncertainty, Oliver reached out and handled her arm with more care than she would have expected from him, pushing the sleeve of her robe up to her elbow. Frowning with overly sincere concentration, he looked at the perfectly sound appendage and gave her a charming smile.

"Looks right as rain."

She nodded uncertainly, her eyes shifting from his hands at her elbow to his face. After a moment, she cleared her throat and pulled her arm back, relinquishing his grasp.

"Er..thanks. But, I should be going."

He nodded, and then asked hesitantly. "What are you doing for the holidays?"

Hermione thought about that. Her parents had wanted her to come and spend Christmas with them, of course. In a recent letter, her father had said they had a lovely ski trip planned if she could make it. It sounded wonderful. Normal even.

_And since when has my life been considered anything that closely resembled normalcy?_

There was the Order - or the lack thereof, the possibility that she needed to return to Germany and battle with the very Death Eaters that loathed her existence for reasons that made entirely no sense whatsoever; and of course, there was the ongoing drama that was Severus Snape.

_Hmmm, difficult choices, the lot of them._

"I'm not really sure yet, Oliver. A few things have come up. I just need to have a nice Butterbeer, get my bearings straight, and then decide what I'm wanting to do."

He looked hopeful then. "There's a brilliant Quidditch match I'm going to in Spain. _Los luchadores. _They have a female Chaser that is _unbelievable._ I... have an extra ticket if you're interested."

She stood there in silence, floored by the irony of it all.

Oliver Wood was a boy that wouldn't so much as _look_ at her when she had been in school. Granted, he _was_ several years older than she, but a popular Quidditch star that was handsome to boot, asking her on a date? It was one of those moments where the floor seemed to loosen beneath her feet, and she had to steady herself to remain standing. _Of course_ she was flattered. Anytime any member of the opposite sex paid the slightest bit of attention to her, she could help but smile inwardly.

But all Hermione could see in that moment were fathomless eyes, ebony hair, and thin - but perfectly wonderful lips.

"Oliver, I'm sorry...but I'm really just not into Quidditch." She felt stupid reiterating it for what seemed to be the hundredth time, but evidently it needed to be repeatedly spoken for it to sink in. "I'm sure there's someone else that would be more than happy to go with you."

He offered a weak smile. "That's just it," he said, levelly. "I don't want there to be a someone else."

_Oh._

_Well, that was rather unexpected._

_Dammit._

"Oliver..."

But Hermione was interrupted by a slight sound behind her, the shifting of feet. She whirled around in surprise to see Severus standing there, arms folded, emitting an anger that chilled her to the bones. With the precision a great cat, he stalked his way toward them, though his normally fascinating eyes were focused unblinking on Oliver. His body was rigid with fury, and with a sinking feeling deep in her stomach, Hermione realized he must have heard her entire conversation with Oliver. Her eyes searched for his wand, the muscle units firing in her body - ready to intervene if Severus reached for it.

A incline of his dark head. "Wood."

Oliver swallowed, taking a few steps backward to distance himself from the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. "Professor Snape."

Hermione thought she saw a ghost of a smile on Severus' lips. Clearly, this was easy prey for him.

"Are you quite done with embarrassing yourself sufficiently for one evening? I have some business to discuss with Professor Granger that does not require the presence of any spurned suitors."

"I was just...er, leaving," Oliver stammered, his cheeks flushing.

Severus raised an eyebrow. "Hope springs eternal."

Oliver didn't look back at Hermione as he turned and hurried down the hallway.

Hermione turned to Severus. "Was that really necessary?"

Severus shrugged indifferently. "You tell me. Evidently his thick skull has a difficult time processing that you have no interest in that idiotic sport. Or would you rather I left you alone only to go through the same scenario in a mere few days time?"

She allowed a brief smile, secretly grateful for his intervention. But then she grew solemn again. "I thought you weren't speaking with me."

His stared at her, hesitant, unsure of what to say. "I'm...afraid I owe you an apology..." But he stopped with whatever grand speech he had rehearsed, took in her pale face and tired stance, as his black eyes swept over her critically. There was something strange about her - something not quite right. "What has happened?"

She raised her brow and looked at him. _How the hell is he so damned observant?_

_Twenty or so years of being a spy probably would do the trick_, she reminded herself.

She sighed, rubbing the back of her neck with her hand and muttered the password to her private quarters.

"Come inside."

He followed obediently, sidestepping the large sofa as she lighted a crackling fire in the hearth. Sitting on the chair he had once occupied before, he kept silent, watching her - waiting for her to say something. She finally sat in the chair opposite his and put her head in her hands.

"Harry came here," she offered at last, her gaze fixed on the fire.

Severus appeared mildly startled. "What news?"

She shook her head numbly. "No. It was nothing of that. He...he wanted to talk about you."

Severus stared ahead, saying nothing.

"He...noticed something. Something between us," Hermione offered after a lengthy pause.

Severus scowled. "Trust Potter to stick his nose where it does not belong."

Hermione didn't react to his outburst. Closing her eyes, her rubbed her temples gingerly until she felt coarse, nimble hands reach out and cover her own, his long fingers cradling her head. She opened her eyes, startled - not startled by the action itself, but more by intimacy posed without consent. He stared at her then, a massive stirring in his dark eyes as he surveyed the tear tracks on her cheeks.

"You've been crying."

Hermione blinked. "Yes."

He waited for her, still cradling her head. Closing her eyes, she sighed. "I got into a row with Harry."

He raised his dark brow and waited.

"It was mostly over you."

"Over me?" Snape echoed quietly.

"Yes."

"And just what was it about myself that you argued with Potter over to the point of tears?"

"He doesn't understand," she said numbly.

Severus nearly chuckled. "While I am not surprised there are phenomena beyond Potter's mental capabilities, I suspect you are referring to something else."

There was a pregnant silence, and Hermione shifted uncomfortably within his grasp until she finally summoned the courage to meet his eyes.

"He doesn't understand why...why I have feelings for you."

She watched his face carefully, waiting for his reaction. Annoyingly, it was perfectly still. Hermione wagered her heart was pounding in the hundreds range. But slowly, methodically, Severus shifted his hands so his fingers were gently tracing the contours of her flawless face.

"That," he said with some incredulity, "...is something that I am still trying to understand, myself."

Hermione's brow furrowed. "Why?"

And then she swallowed and pulled away from his tender grasp. "Is it really that difficult to comprehend?"

"Yes," Severus answered at once.

"Well," Hermione said as she turned from him to stare at the fire, "...I would have it suspected it to be the other way around."

Severus looked at her, genuinely startled.

"I've seen photographs of her," Hermione offered, fingering her wand as the flames reflected across her face. She concentrated fiercely on the chameleon pattern of the embers. "She - Lily- was very beautiful."

And then it hit Severus with such abruptness of what she was implying that he felt as though the wind had been knocked out of him.

_Sweet Merlin, does she really not know?_

_Of course, with dunderheads like Potter and Weasley for friends, they wouldn't know a beautiful woman if she came up and snogged them squarely on the face._

"Hermione - "

"You didn't talk to me at all this week," Hermione interrupted, looking him fully in the face. "Do you...regret what happened?"

_Damn her Gryffindor subtleness._

"No."

Her face was genuinely concerned. "Then what is it?"

Severus swallowed thickly and stood, his dark cloak clinging to him like a shadow. He turned his back to her, unable to meet her face. Discussing _feelings_, Severus mused, certainly was not his forte. That had been part of the problem with Lily - too many hidden feelings that were pent up and never revealed.

Bowing his head, he closed his eyes and whispered, "I do not deserve you."

Hermione stared unbelieving at his back as the proverbial hammer fell.

_What?_

She looked at him in utter confusion, stood and walked so they were standing face to face, though his head was still bowed, causing his lengthy hair to cast a great shadow. She reached out and took his large hands in her small ones.

"How can you think that?"

He looked to his left - toward the fire, refusing to meet her face. "You can't possibly understand the evil I've done."

She looked at him, a stirring in her heart. "But it had to be done," Hermione whispered. "I am not so naive to understand that."

"Tell that to the families I have ruined," he spat harshly.

Her brow furrowed.

_Do you still see their faces? Do they torment you while you sleep? _

"Please understand," Hermione said carefully, softly, "...that I know what your past was and why. I don't fault you for it. We are all...dealt a different hand of cards and play it the best we can." She swallowed, reaching up to touch his face gently, turning it so he was looking down at her. "Believe that I'm adult enough to make my own decisions, that despite what you might think is best for me, I know full well what I'm getting myself into."

Severus did not look away. He watched her expression carefully, searching for any doubt or uncertainty. A hope and unrequited joy unlike anything he had ever known was spreading throughout his chest like an internal balloon. He swallowed purposefully.

"And Potter?"

And then her face _did _change - to something of sorrow and regret.

"He'll come around eventually," she said at length. "He admires you greatly...he just needs time. It's too much for him right now."

His black eyes searched her and the fire flickered against them. Reaching out, he gathered her to his side - his grip precise, not an ounce too tight. He rested his chin on her head, closed his eyes, and breathed in her scent deeply. _Wildflowers._ Combing her thick hair with his hands, he bent down and kissed the top of her dark head, making sure she was real.

"Foolish girl," he whispered as she looked up to meet his gaze. "Your faith in others is beyond comprehension."

She smiled gloriously. "I always did like to rise to a challenge."

He looked down at her fondly, tucking her hair behind her ears. "Indeed."

And then he closed the distance between them and kissed her firmly, all thoughts of his self-doubt and the frightening unknowns of tomorrow forgotten. Pulling her ever closer, his heart pounded; and he felt free.

* * *

_A/N: Wow. The story broke the 200 review mark with the last chapter and I'm quite ecstatic. A HUGE thanks for all the reviews and support. If I hadn't had them, I probably wouldn't have continued with the story. I also appreciate all the response on Snape's patronus. I received some valuable insight and I'm definitely grateful for it. More on that to come soon..._

_Hope you enjoyed today's chapter. Another description was taken from Harlan Coben with the description of life as a thread - I seriously love his books. I'm not completely sure on when the next chapter will be ready. It will just depend on the next couple of days because I'm leaving for New York next week for a few days. I can't even tell you all how excited I am to see Wicked... Anyways, hopefully I'll have the next chapter up before I leave. Thanks again! _


	13. Chapter 13

_"True love comes quietly, without banners or flashing lights. If you hear bells, get your ears checked."_

- _Erich Segal_

* * *

**Chapter 13: The Plan**

* * *

Desh Blackwater backed into a solid wall, startling him to the point where his breath caught on something in his throat, his heart skipping wildly. He looked up briefly to see the object with which he had collided, and then returned his wide eyes to a pale, demented face.

"No," Desh whispered, pleading. "Please. I have done everything you have asked of me. But, no. Not that."

Lucius appeared slightly amused, cocking his head to one side and regarding the man as perhaps a bird might regard an insect, curiously contemplating his prey.

It was silent for several moments before Lucius stepped forward. Desh, in response, made to back away, but the stone wall at his back held him firmly in place.

"I was not under the impression," Lucius said softly, darkly, "...that we were negotiating."

Desh's eyes looked past Lucius for an escape. A place to run. Anything. But it was useless, he knew. Though Desh had his wand, Lucius was capably of destroying him without literally ending his life. He swallowed thickly, his mind racing. "Please."

Lucius smirked. "This is the last task I have for you, brother. Do this, and your family will be safe."

Desh swallowed again. "My family?"

Lucius smiled sickly. "Oh, yes. Have you already forgotten our little arrangement? I promise, as I did before, that we will not harm your family if you proceed with the plan." And then he raised his serpent staff to Desh's chin, raising his head in an unnatural position as he inspected the man before him. "You have two young children - girls, do you not?"

Desh shook his head, water escaping his eyes. "Please. No."

Lucius raised his brow. "All you need to worry about is the plan and they shall remain safe." And then his face resolved into a disgusted frown. "_Despite,_" he added, "...the filthy _blood_ they inherited from their mother."

Desh stared ahead unblinking, his life unraveling rapidly around him. A choking sob escaped his lips and when he at last regained composure, he whispered, "Yes."

Lucius' face was unreadable. In an exaggerated gesture, he removed his staff from Desh's chin. "I feel you underestimate my compassion, Blackwater." He turned away and walked to a nearby cabinet that housed gratuitous amounts of fire whiskey. "In my noble quest to purify the filth of this world, I made you a promise that I would spare your pathetic family." He turned so his pale eyes were locked onto Desh and asked, "Am I not merciful?"

Desh closed his eyes, squeezing out a few stagnant tears as he thought of his daughters, his wife.

"Yes."

Lucius' sharp voice resonated throughout the echoing room. "Then bring me Potter's mudblood."

A heavy door closed with a resounding thud and Desh opened his eyes to an empty room, the fire licking up the sides of the hearth, reflecting patterns across his devastated face. With one shaky, final breath, he closed his eyes, and Apparated.

* * *

Life does not stop.

Hermione stared blankly ahead at the thick pile of parchments on her desk. They were mocking her, she was sure. She rubbed her temples with her middle and index fingers suddenly and felt tired. Grading essays seemed strangely normal, all things considered.

_How odd,_ she thought,_ that grades were once so important._

But doing the mundane - something so numbingly normal, something that she typically enjoyed, would surely be, if not comforting, mildly therapeutic.

The Order had completely dissolved. That truth, in a sense, was too stark to be reconciled with. Hermione had begun to analyze the implications of what it meant for herself, Harry, Severus, and Minerva; but as her mind opened the unknown doors, the truth, she saw, was nothing short of paralyzing. And that was where self preservation kicked in. She had to protect herself from where her mind would surely wander.

But how could only the four of them make a difference?

A new race of Death Eaters was rising from the ashes of Voldemort, determined to finish what was left undone. And Hermione, Professor of Charms, extraordinaire, was dutifully sitting at her desk grading second-year essays, powerless to stop it.

The task was daunting, if not impossible.

_There has to be something I'm missing._

Deep breaths. Calm. That was the key thing. Think it through. Be rational.

She had scribbled down the names of each Order member, critically analyzing each one in the futile hope that the name of the traitor would miraculously leap off the parchment like an enlightened epiphany. But as her eyes scanned the list of names again and again; each person seemed less likely than the previous to be the Benedict Arnold.

_Neville Longbottom._

Her eyes didn't even _linger_ there. Again she surveyed the list, frowning in thought. And for the life of her, she couldn't peg any of the names for a traitor.

_Use your head, Hermione, _she thought with mild skepticism._ James Potter probably wouldn't have ever thought Peter Pettigrew a traitor either, and now he's rotting in a grave. _

She frowned, scratching the back of her head with her quill.

_Since when did I become so morbid?_

But was there an other option? Something that she was missing? She ran through it again. The crack of the window at Grimmwauld Place. Check. It _had _to be someone who was in the Order at the time of Dumbledore's death. She scanned the list of names again, her brow furrowing deeply.

_Fleur Delacour-Weasley, Lee Jordan, Bowen Keetch, Molly Weasley..._

Something was missing. Hermione felt sickened to admit it, but she was grudgingly impressed that the culprit had gone _this_ far without suspicion. _Severus, _she would have like to have asked, _What do you make of all this? Connect the dots for me. _And with his ever phlegmatic expression, she imagined him replying somewhat teasingly, _Ah, how the mighty have fallen if a 'know-it-all' Gryffindor has stooped to ask a _lowly_ professor for direction. _

Weary and troubled, Hermione bit down on her lower lip and thought of Severus. He was at the Ministry now with Harry, checking and rechecking everything they knew thus far - much to the chagrin of entire the Auror Department. But Harry had influence and sway where others didn't.

Hermione supposed it went with the territory of defeating soulless dark wizards.

The thought of Harry and Severus working side by side seemed an understated oxymoron in every sense of the word. On the one hand, unity of their little group had become a necessity - the lack of Order resources notwithstanding. There were too many questions. Too many theories, conjectures.

And answers? They were few and far between. And on the other hand, though slightly more disconcerting; Hermione wondered if Harry and Severus could make it through a single day without throttling one another - let alone avoid hexing one another into complete oblivion.

_Desperate times, _Hermione thought bitterly, _call for desperate measures._

She sighed, sank back into her chair and rubbed her eyes, irritated with herself. Had she not been called 'the brightest witch of her year'? The brightest witch to have graced Hogwarts in half a century? How was it then, that she could not see something that was surely right in front of her? A slip, a mistake, a inconsistency?

Severus had kissed the top of her brown head before he left for the Ministry, looking at her with a peculiar intensity. "For the love of Merlin," he had said. "Please do not do anything _Gryffindor_ while I am gone."

She raised her brow defiantly; a challenge. "Is it not in my very nature?"

"As you say."

She smiled. "To be rash, impulsive, and brave beyond all reason?"

He almost smiled, the corners of his mouth quirking up slightly.

"Will you be back before Christmas?" she asked.

Severus frowned. "I thought you chose to spend the holidays with your parents."

"I'm going to see them on Christmas Eve," she said. "And I'll stay for Christmas breakfast, but there are greater things at work here, things larger than presents, eggnog, and trimmings."

He looked down at her fondly, an intense warmth radiating from his black eyes. "Hermione," he said softly, a strange note in his voice, "...you might consider that the battle might belong to others now."

She looked up at him sharply. _Another condescending version of machismo chivalry?_

"You'd never believe those words," she replied pointedly.

He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Yes, but I still have amends to make. Debts I owe."

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "Oh, don't tell me you're still stuck on that rubbish," she said viciously. "You know damn well that you've paid your debt to society ten fold. Don't give me that."

Severus closed his eyes. Hermione thought he looked much like a man preparing the one-way walk to the gallows. "I do not expect you to fully understand," he said quietly, solemnly. "It must sound...strange, I know." He swallowed thickly, his Adam's apple working. "I have no wish to play the martyr, but...I must do what is required of me."

Hermione regarded him in silence for a long moment. Their eyes met. Standing at the gates of Hogwarts near the Apparation point, the winter air felt cool in Hermione's lungs. She sucked it down, trying to let the dizziness fade that had come unbidden out of nowhere.

At length she offered softy, "I must do what is required of me, too. You say that the battle might belong to others," she shook her head. "But that's not true. Harry and the Headmistress are the only others that know about what we are up against. I won't abandon that."

Severus' eyes were unreadable. After a slight moment he reached forward, gathering her close to his side as he whispered in her ear, "Foolish, foolish girl."

And then he kissed her hungrily, his hands entwining themselves in a mass of thick, unruly hair that blew wildly in the wind. She had pressed herself against him, lacing her arms around his neck - a sensation that shook her to the very core.

"You don't have to leave," Hermione said wistfully as she pulled back to look at him fully.

His face softened at her glum expression. "You have infinitely more faith in Potter than I do," he drawled. "So, yes. I must leave."

Hermione rolled her eyes. It was childish, she knew. But she couldn't help it. "Be careful. Please."

Severus did not respond. His dark eyes took in her pale face, her full lips, and soft eyes before he ran his long fingers through her hair once more.

She was still _so_ young, so innocent, so full of hope.

He etched her face in his memory in that moment and reluctantly removed his hand. Swallowing thickly, Hermione turned and made her way back to the castle through the crunching snow. She could still feel his eyes on her back when she heard the resounding _crack_ that signaled he was gone.

That was nearly twenty-four hours ago.

And now, Hermione sat, utterly lost and dumbfounded as she struggled to find the connection to the traitor. Behind her notes, the stack of unread parchments itched at her like a swollen mosquito bite. She sighed, rubbing her tired eyes with her hands as she sank back into her chair. It was Christmas Eve and she was meant to have left for her parent's house an hour ago.

She frowned. _They'll be worried._

With one final longing glance at the list of Order members, Hermione quickly tidied her desk with a deft flick of her wand and crossed the room to her coat hanger; grabbing her traveling cloak and overnight bag.

"Look after things while I'm gone, Crooks," Hermione said to her ancient cat, who was curled up comfortably next to the hearth. "I'll be back tomorrow. And don't you dare get into your present before morning."

The ginger cat regarded her indifferently, opening one eye at the sound of his name.

Donning her cloak and glancing once more over her shoulder at the cozy room, Hermione quickly shut the door behind her as she made her way to the Apparation point.

* * *

Severus sighed internally and began to count to ten to keep himself from murdering Harry Potter. His hand clutched his wand tightly, his already white knuckles taking on the glorious hue of the snow falling outside.

_It would be so easy_, he fantasized to himself. _One little incantation. One little phrase and the world would be rid of another arrogant, mediocre, insolent, and altogether entirely annoying _Potter.

Harry's green eyes flashed up at Severus from a parchment he was scanning, as though hearing his thoughts.

_Don't be ridiculous,_ Severus told himself, though he was clearly startled. _The boy is as incapable of learning Legilimency as I am of praising Longbottom._

"Potter." Severus' voice was icy. "Hand me the notes from Buckley."

Harry looked up from a file, annoyed. "I'm not done looking over them."

"Yes, you are." Severus insisted. "Hand them to me now."

Harry all but threw the file at Severus, scooting back on his chair as the wooden legs scrapped noisily over the bare floor. "So," he said with mock sarcasm, "...would you mind telling me what the _hell_ it is that I'm doing here, _Professor _Snape? Am I merely keeping you company? Should a grab us a spot of tea?"

Severus smiled. "Cheek was never one of your strong points, Potter. Though a cup of tea would not go remiss if you are, indeed, offering."

Harry scowled and crossed his arms across his chest in a wonderful imitation of a five-year-old.

Severus glanced up from the file, clearly satisfied he had elicited annoyance from the younger man. "Pouting does not suit you, Potter. If you're looking for someone to coddle you, I can assure you that I am the last person on God's green earth that would oblige to do so."

Curling his hands into tightly balled fists, Harry muttered a few colorful words under his breath as he stood dramatically, making his way toward a precarious stack of parchment and files on an adjacent desk. With robes ruffling Severus' black hair as Harry passed; keen ears picked up the brief mention of Hermione's name.

"Do not," Severus said darkly, sharply, looking up from the ink-stained parchment, "...involve yourself in things that _do not_ concern you, Potter."

Harry turned around, his green eyes flashing, understanding the implication. "If it concerns Hermione; it concerns me."

Severus chuckled maliciously, standing so he was a head taller than Harry. "And what do you _truly_ know of her, Potter - your purported best friend? Did you not leave her in tears the last time you the two of you spoke?"

Harry's set face wavered for the slightest of moments, but it did not go unnoticed.

"Do not," Severus repeated in a threatening whisper, "...meddle with business that is not your own."

"She's my best friend."

"Indeed," said Severus mockingly. But his dark eyes suddenly caught something on a rogue parchment, immediately drawing his interest. "This conversation is over."

And then he stooped over the little desk in Harry's dimly lit office, picking up the curious item as his eyes scanned the ink with disapproval.

"What is it?" Harry asked with intrigue, moving a chair out of the way as he made his way to Severus' side.

Severus frowned and replied dispassionately, "A list of the current members of the Order of the Phoenix."

Harry laughed mirthlessly as he sat down on his rickety chair, leaning back and placing his hands on the backside of his head. "Well, I hope you have a better nose for sniffing a traitor than I do. I can't tell you how many times I have read and reread that damned thing."

Severus didn't reply. He stood perfectly still as his eyes raced over the names.

_Arthur Weasley, Lee Jordan, Luna Lovegood, Seamus Finnigan..._

And then a sudden thought struck him.

"I need to know each member's blood status."

Harry raised a thick eyebrow. "What?"

"I do not recall you being _deaf_, Potter," Severus spat as he threw the list of names roughly on Harry's lap. Harry doubled over, rushing to protect a rather sensitive area, as he very nearly stumbled off the chair and onto the floor.

"Why?" he asked indignantly.

Severus turned to face him, his stern gaze carrying heavily in the air. "Do it."

"No," Harry said, rising to his feet and throwing the parchment onto the disastrous desk. "Not until you tell me what's going on. I will not follow you around blindly like some frightened first-year."

Severus closed his eyes again, silently counting as he bit back the internal rage.

_Damn his Gryffindor stubbornness._

"There are two possibilities," he relented at length, pinching the bridge of his nose. "A pure-blood in the Order who has secretly been involved in the blood supremacist cults since before the fall of Voldemort, or - "

"You think this is all centered around blood?" Harry interrupted.

"Yes, I do, Potter," Severus snapped coldly. "And you requested to not be treated like a first-year," he added. "Do not interrupt."

Face flushed with the chastisement of a small child, Harry nodded for his former professor to continue.

"The other possibility is a pureblood who has married into a muggle-born or half-blood family."

Harry wrinkled his brow in confusion. "I don't understand. Why would it have to be a pure-blood? And what does marrying into a non pure-blood family have to do with anything?"

"If Lucius is, indeed, the leader of this rogue group of former Death Eaters," Severus said simply, "...he would not involve himself with someone he felt had less noble blood than his own."

"But, Voldemort's blood, your blood - "

"Lucius only learned of my true blood status after the...incident on the tower. At that point," Severus said softly, "...I was too high in the ranks of Death Eaters for him to squabble with me. And, of course, he still did not know of Voldemort's muggle heritage."

Harry nodded in silent contemplation for several moments. "And non pure-blood families?"

Severus rubbed the back of his neck. "Manipulation."

Harry raised a thick eyebrow. "Threats?"

Severus nodded. "Use your head, Potter. One little run-in, one tiny slip up of anyone who fell helplessly into Lucius' lap would be all that it would take for Lucius to essentially have anyone in the Order at his disposal if he threated their non pure-blood relatives."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "So he made a bargain. A deal that he would protect them while essentially eradicating everyone else of that blood heritage."

Severus inclined his head. "A deal that Lucius would never keep."

Harry nodded in mutual understanding as the weight of Severus' discovery hung thickly in the air.

"I need those blood records, Potter," Severus said levelly after a moment. "And you and I both know the Ministry would never give those directly to myself."

Harry stared at Severus, unblinking. "I'll see what I can do. The cross checking will be a nightmare, but at least its _something_. And we'll need to get Hermione on board straight away, she's brilliant at boring stuff."

Severus cracked a ghost of a smile as he turned to leave Harry's office.

"Er..., Professor - " Harry called out, unsure of how to address his former teacher, but entirely too uncomfortable with the idea of throwing around first names. "I...," he looked down at his hands, twisting them nervously before he gained the courage to look up again.

"I am not my father."

Severus looked at Harry phlegmatically, revealing nothing. At length he swallowed and walked through the threshold.

"I know."

* * *

Hermione apparated two blocks down from her parent's house, pulling back her hood so as not to terrify the neighbors. It was only early evening, but with the winter solstice, the streets were already dark. Adjusting her pack over her shoulder and wrestling with the brightly wrapped packages under her arm, Hermione made her way through the thin layer of snow.

The quaint neighborhood _felt_ of Christmas. Blinking lights adorning rafters, the crispness of the air, the faint scent of gingerbread; Hermione closed her eyes and paused in her tracks as wave of nostalgia swept over her from Christmases past. Not of Christmases with Harry and Ron spent in a drafty, empty castle; but rather of a warm fire, stockings stuffed - not with chocolate or candies, but rather floss and toothbrushes; her father in that ridiculous sweater, and her mother's special hot cocoa. For a moment, standing there as carolers sang in the distance, Hermione forgot about the ongoing war.

She opened her eyes, at length; a warmness spreading throughout her chest from her childhood memories. But as she made to take a step forward, there was a whisper of an incantation behind her, and without warning, Hermione lost control of her body, and she froze firmly in place as the spell hit her, packages falling clumsily to the ground. Hermione, herself, began to teeter like a falling tree, until she felt arms catch her and hold her steady.

"I truly am so sorry," a male voice whispered into her, the stale of his breath assaulting Hermione's senses. "But I don't have a choice."

Hermione's eyes shifted, trying to see who her captor was, but the stunning spell held her firmly in place as the man held her upright from behind. Panic swept over, hardened and real, before her brain had a chance to contemplate what was happening. Then it all flooded in.

_The crack of the window at Grimmauld Place._

_The traitor._

_Oh, Merlin. _

_Severus, if I'd had the chance..._

And then the arms tightened more firmly around her, and all she could feel was the compression of apparation as she disappeared into thin air. Over the loud _crack_, Hermione could still hear the carolers singing.

* * *

_A/N: So, so sorry for the delay, folks! When I came back from New York, I suffered from a severe case of writer's block. Hopefully, you can forgive me. I don't anticipate lengthy periods between updates, so please - stay with me here! Also, I have to not only thank everyone for their lovely reviews, but for two nominations for the New Library Awards! I can't even tell you how honored and excited I am! It's almost as unexpected as the time I saw Alan Rickman at the Sundance Film Festival. :) Thank you so much. Hopefully this chapter made the wait worth it...I'm still trying to build it up here... :) You're all wonderful.  
_


	14. Chapter 14

_"I must lose myself in action, lest I wither in despair."_

- Alfred Lord Tennyson

* * *

**Chapter 14: The Despair**

* * *

"They have her."

Severus' blood froze.

_It couldn't be._

Harry's words did not register immediately. The sound, the stimuli the ear was sending to the brain, would not compute, the information causing some kind of short circuit. And then terror - terror unlike anything Severus had ever experienced before, terror that made the final battle look like trip to Hogsmeade, racked every fiber of his being.

"Her parents phoned me," Harry went on, when Severus did nothing more than stare blankly ahead in shock. "She was meant to have arrived hours ago at their house for Christmas Eve. When she didn't show, her dad got worried and took a nip around the neighborhood," he swallowed.

"He found these."

And ever so carefully, as though laying a newborn child gently down to sleep, Harry set two brightly wrapped packages on an impossibly clean desk in front of Severus. Numbly, methodically, Severus reached forward and fingered the name tag on the azure box that was nearest him, instantly recognizing Hermione's impeccable handwriting - a script he had studied and read for years.

_To: Mum_

_Merry Christmas! _

_With love,_

_Hermione_

And then like the final twist of a dagger in Severus' pounding heart - a cruel irony that seemed to prod at his sad life without ceasing, Harry pulled Hermione's elegant vinewood wand from his robes and looked at it, completely and utterly lost, until he placed it cautiously next to the packages on the table.

"This was found next to the presents."

Severus stood perfectly still for several moments, his eyes refusing to acknowledge that it was, indeed, Hermione's wand that sat before him so mockingly. But his memory - his cursed visual recall - easily recognized the intricate pattern at the base, and knew with a sickening realization that the wand belonged to Hermione. And with Harry still staring at him in silent horror, Severus reluctantly picked up the wand with unsteady hands, turning it over in fearful reverence as his long fingers grazed its length. He closed his eyes tightly and took two deep breaths while his heart pounded furiously with the things named and nameless that could have happened to Hermione at Lucius' command.

_And its already been hours._

_She could be...dead._

Involuntarily, Severus imagined Hermione in some dark dungeon in some distant place, standing defiantly before Lucius or any other nondescript Death Eater, chin high, refusing to divulge any information about the Order, hands trembling at her sides.

He closed his eyes again and felt weak.

"It's already been hours," Harry said with despair, eerily on cue with Severus' thoughts.

Severus opened his eyes and nodded, using every ounce of strength to control his breathing. His black eyes scanned his private quarters, not seeing at all what was before him, while Harry fidgeted with his wand and shuffled his feet. "I haven't told Minerva yet...I came straight to you," he swallowed. "I...I don't even know where to start."

Very precisely, Severus pocketed Hermione's wand into his voluminous robes and drew his own, clenching it tightly. "Germany," he whispered, as something caught on his throat. "We start with Germany."

Harry nodded. "I'll go tell Minerva."

The younger man quickly rushed past Severus with brisk steps, green eyes frantic with worry. And the moment the stone relief closed loudly behind him, Severus fell hard to his knees. Doubling over with trembling hands that clutched furtively at the stone floor, his ragged breathing sounded something like fireworks in the silence of his quarters. Covering his eyes with his hands, he said a silent prayer to whatever celestial force might be listening in that moment to keep Hermione safe.

_Hermione._

It was several moments before he opened his eyes with one final shaky breath.

_Do not lose hope. _

Placing a trembling hand on his thigh for support, Severus stood slowly, steadying himself. And gripping his wand tighter than was humanly possible, he willed his frantic heart to calm as his dark eyes hardened, his face set, and he crossed the threshold, ready to hunt Death Eaters.

* * *

Cold.

Cold was the first conscious thought that registered in Hermione's mind as the fog began to lift and she slowly perceived her surroundings. The next thought she processed was the impenetrable darkness. Lifting a hand in front of her face, she barely made out the slight trembling of her fingers as she flexed them tentatively. For one dizzying moment, she wasn't sure which way was up.

_Where the hell am I?_

_What happened?_

And then, like a flying Bludger, it all rushed back.

_Apparating from Hogwarts..._

_Walking through the snow..._

_Unable to move...and a voice..._

_A voice..._

Hermione shivered as she felt the cold floor with her hands, her eyes struggling to adjust to the dim lighting. The floor was stone, uneven stone, and her fingers tentatively traced their way into the crevasses as she felt her way along the floor, occasionally finding a stagnant puddle. Once or twice, she brushed against what appeared to be hay, stiff and brittle against her fingers. Her breathing was uneven, she knew, as her heart pounded wildly with the implications of her situation. And each breath brought a stale, musky, scent back to her nostrils. But she inched forward until her hand finally made contact with a wall and she scooted over to it, leaning back against it for support.

_How could I have been so foolish? Did I learn nothing from Mad-Eye Moody?_

_Constant Vigilance._

Hermione sighed and lowered her head to her hands, cradling it with her trembling fingers as she suppressed a sob. Her keen and analytical mind was struggling to overpower her current emotions, on nerves as they were, to ascertain where she was and if she had any hope of escape. And as the darkness continued to surround her, Hermione's other senses fought to make up for the lack of sight. She could already smell something vaguely dank, the scent of an old structure not properly kept. Sitting perfectly still, she listened quietly, straining her ears to hear - water? Dripping water? It was difficult to hear over the pounding of her heart, but the sound of water dripping was fairly distinct. What that meant for her in her current situation, she wasn't sure.

She sighed again, and was readying herself to stand to investigate her surrounds further, when there was a sudden onslaught of heavy footsteps - the echo, confusing the sense of direction from their point of origin. Hermione frantically scurried across the floor on her hands and knees, unsure of where she was moving. But she pressed forward, crawling across the uneven floor blindly, moving solely from the overwhelming instinct to flee.

A loud _crack_, and a heavy cellar door swung inward on its hinges, bringing a light that was nearly as blinding as the darkness. Unable to see, Hermione threw her left arm in front of her face for protection, and with her right, shakily pulled her knees tightly to her chest. She huddled there, breathing heavily, heart thumping with the anticipation of the unknown, until the door closed as abruptly as it had opened.

"Your eyes," spoke a familiar voice, "...are likely more adjusted to the darkness."

And as Hermione's pupils dilated to the softer, somehow more familiar darkness, she lowered her arm and crawled as far away from the voice as she could, until her backside bumped into a hard wall.

With a shaky breath, she hesitated. "Malfoy?"

There was only a momentary pause. With a quiet whisper of "_Lumos!_", a focused light beamed from the tip of an ebony wand, casting a strange and eerie play of light across the face of Draco Malfoy.

Hermione blinked. She had not seen Malfoy since the Battle of Hogwarts, some seven years prior. She stared ahead in terror at his hardened face, scooting as far back against the dank wall as was humanly possible, and was silently grateful she had made it thus far without running into to her former childhood enemy.

His once steely eyes looked deadened in the strong light, strangely detached and expressionless. And for a long moment, neither moved. Hermione wondered vaguely how much more pounding her frantic heart could handle before it exploded of shear exhaustion. Malfoy, however, seemed rather unperturbed about the entire encounter. He regarded her carefully, with no trace of a smirk or triumph on his lips. That fact alone frightened Hermione more than if he had lashed out in one of his verbal insults. As degrading and bigoted as they were, consistency was something familiar and somehow, oddly comforting.

It was several moments and countless heartbeats before he spoke.

"Granger."

His tone was monotonous. No venom. No hidden contempt. It was, to Hermione's recollection, the first greeting she had ever received from him that contained no malice.

Her mind was racing.

Childhood enemy? Check. Hater of Muggle-borns? Double check. All around arrogant prick? You got it.

But then Hermione remembered the tape she had seen at the Ministry in that dark room with Harry - the non-human guttural sob that had slapped against his throat as he ripped into the wet flesh of the earth. And with a shaky breath, she remembered the Astronomy Tower. She remembered Dumbledore.

_Maybe, just maybe, he can get me out of this._

"Where are we?" She asked tentatively, his eyes still weighing heavy on her.

Malfoy stepped to his side, raising his wand and curiously observing her small quarters as though he had never seem them before. Hermione chanced a glance in the direction of the light, seeing she was ensconced in nothing but a small, stone room with a precariously low ceiling.

"That's irrelevant."

She swallowed and tried again. "What do you want with me?"

He smirked - the first real display of emotion he had given since he first appeared. "Come on, Granger. You and I both know you know why you're here."

Looking at her trembling hands, she whispered more to herself than to him, "Leverage."

"Brightest witch of your age," Malfoy deadpanned.

"Why?"

He raised a light eyebrow. "I should think that's rather obvious. You're connected to Potter."

Hermione shook her head. "No. Not that." She gestured around the little room. "Why this? Why now? During the battle - "

"Do not," Malfoy spat suddenly, forcefully as he leaned over Hermione's crouched form. "Presume that you know me."

"But I _do_ know you," Hermione pressed, the quiet courage coming unbidden as she straightened herself. "You couldn't kill Dumbledore. And I saw your face at Malfoy Manor. You wouldn't reveal Harry when you knew it was him - "

Malfoy bent down and roughly grabbed the neckline of Hermione's robe, hoisting her upward by the garment. She was only a few inches off the floor, but that was all he needed. "You - do - not - know - me," he whispered in a deadly tone, his eyes suddenly gaining some emotion from their previous deadened state. When Hermione finally started to choke for breath, her hands groping wildly at her throat, he lowered her unceremoniously to the cold floor.

Coughing and sputtering as she stroked her throat gingerly, Hermione forced the tears back and spat defiantly, "Go on and do it, then. Be a man. Kill me and get it done with. _Prove_ that your blood is better than mine."

Malfoy stood abruptly, mild startlement chasing itself across his face. But it vanished as quickly as it had come.

"Evidently," he said in a perfect monotone, "Your concept of the term, 'leverage' is slightly skewed."

And then the door cracked open, the light vanished; and Hermione found herself, once again, trembling in the darkness, as her tears flowed freely.

* * *

Doing nothing was agony.

Severus paced the length of the check-in station of International Apparation in Germany like a caged, wild lion. A female attendant was looking over his and Harry's travel papers at a pace that was physically painful. She tapped her overgrown acrylic nails against her front teeth for the umpteenth time. The sound was like a metronome; rhythmic and entirely annoying. If the tapping continued, Severus wouldn't hesitate jumping over the counter and restraining her hands by something as primitive as Muggle ropes.

"And your business in this county?" She said in a thick, German accent.

"The Auror Department - " Harry began, but was quickly cut off.

Severus slammed his hands down onto the counter, causing the tapping to abruptly halt. And then the guns started blazing.

"I believe," Severus spat, "That what we have been doing for the past _fifteen _minutes is explain just _that_. The jurisdiction of the Auror Department under the Ministry needs _no _explanations." He panted with the pent-up fury and frustration of the past few hours. "Now stamp the damn forms and move out of my way, or I swear to Merlin - "

"Er..., if you could just stamp the forms," Harry interrupted, grabbing Severus by the upper arm and pulling him forcefully back as best he could. "We'll be on our way without another fuss."

The startled woman looked at Harry Potter and nodded nervously, her eyes flashing to Severus' dark form as he prowled behind Harry like a large cat, black eyes never wavering. With an overeager hand, she stamped the forms.

"Yelling won't get us anywhere," Harry said to Severus as they exited the busy terminal and rushed into the bitter morning air.

"I disagree," Severus countered, his breath visible with each word. "That moronic woman is no longer in my presence - ergo, success."

Harry nearly smiled. _Nearly_. As his lips began to quirk upward, he remembered Hermione; and his face grew solemn as he felt his heart quicken.

"We'll start near the area in the forest where you were attacked," Severus said, looking straight ahead. They quickly hurried through a small crowd and down a narrow alleyway towards the Apparation point. "The Headmistress is our contingency plan."

Harry nodded as he slipped and caught himself on a puddle of ice. "If we don't report within twelve hours - "

"The entire Auror Department will swarm the forest before Lucius can do so much as raise his wand. With Minerva at the helm, I doubt it would take them long to find our bodies."

Harry paused mid-stride, surprised by Severus' casual dismissal. "Our bodies?"

"Don't be so naive, Potter," Severus said sharply as they reached the iron gate that marked the Apparation point. "In all likelihood, Hermione is dead and you and I will not be far behind if there are as many Death Eaters involved as the whispers suggest."

Harry put his hand on the gate. It was cold.

"I know you don't believe that."

Severus swallowed and looked at his hands. Not surprisingly, they were trembling. "It might be better," he whispered.

Harry's brow furrowed. "Better that she were _dead_?"

Severus closed his eyes and breathed the frigged air into his lungs. "At least...then...it would be over. She wouldn't feel anymore."

Harry opened his mouth to reply and then closed it. After a moment, he tried again. "You mean that they mean to torture her." His green eyes blinked furiously. "Hurt her. To get to me."

Severus' head was still bent, his chin nearly touching his chest. Frankly, he was surprised it had taken Harry this long to come to the morbid, heart wrenching conclusion. But Severus was certain. Best friend to the man who killed Voldemort; Harry Potter - the man whom the war had been centered around since his very birth - standing for everything the Death Eaters defied; Hermione would be a prize among prizes.

_And she's Muggle-born._

Severus opened his eyes and looked again at his shaky hands. He must have looked a little mad, his straggly black hair blowing in the biting wind as his eyes literally swam with fury. His breathing was shallow. Without turning to Harry, he gripped his wand tightly and turned on the spot.

"We've wasted enough time."

And with a resounding _crack_, he was gone.

* * *

Hermione sat huddled in a corner in the dark room.

It was beyond freezing. Her fingers, if she could have seen them properly, would surely be pale blue in color - her lips, the same shade. Her teeth had started chattering only moments after Malfoy had left her in the surrounding darkness. That had been hours? Days ago? The monotony of the darkness, the lack of lighting to gauge the passage of time, made it difficult for Hermione to know how long it had truly been. But that was irrelevant. Waiting, waiting in the dark for what she knew was to come was worse than the actual event itself.

It was enough to drive a person mad.

The events at Malfoy Manor had happened suddenly and without warning. Her capture and torture had come without preamble. But now, here, as she trembled quietly in the dark, she was left with nothing but her vivid imagination of things said and unsaid of what they might do to her. The Cruciatus? That was a given. She had seen enough in the damned war to know what would come. Hermione breathed a little raggedly at the thought; the breaths that should have been sobs - forced down by her nonsensical Gryffindor pride.

_You've done it once_, she told herself. _You can survive it again._

And before her thoughts traveled too far down that despairing road, Severus' face came into her mind, unbidden. She wrapped her arms around her knees to help shield the cold. Did he know that she had been captured? Was he searching for her? Was he at all privy to her plight, or was he still arguing with Harry over minute details at the Ministry? The tactile memory of him elicited a small burning sensation in her chest.

Hermione closed her eyes - not that it made much of a difference - and sighed. And very suddenly, there was a strange noise beyond the opposite wall, footsteps quickly approaching to the beat of muffled voices. As her ears strained to hear what was being said, she felt the force of spell - the magical energy around her crackling and changing in the air. It was almost as though the entryway were about to -

Implode.

The door landed on the stone floor with a deep, echoing _thud_, dust and hay unsettling itself as it was momentarily airborne, as Lucius Malfoy crossed the threshold, wand already lighted.

"Miss Granger," he scoffed in a bored tone, lowering his wand and looking around the room. Hermione stared ahead, bracing herself. If she had at all thought Draco's eyes were expressionless, they looked like a radiant plethora of emotions compared to his father's. Shadowed behind his wandlight, Lucius' eyes were cold. Dead. Past all feeling. The light that radiated the soul through the eyes had long since been extinguished. _And hard_, Hermione thought. _As hard as his blackened heart._

Hermione's ears quickly sensed another set of footsteps just outside her little room, and her eyes immediately shifted from Lucius to beyond where he was standing to see Desh Blackwater walk reluctantly across the broken threshold.

Instantly, she was on her feet.

"You!" She accused with a pointed finger. "It was _you_?"

Desh shrank against the broken threshold, cowering in the shadows until Lucius pointed the light in his direction. "Ah, yes!" he exclaimed, clearly delighted with himself. "You both are acquainted with one another, are you not? More than acquaintances, though, am I right?" he asked as he pushed a clearly distraught Desh in front of him so he was standing face to face with Hermione. "Both members of a certain society, I think."

Hermione was fully preparing to launch herself at Desh when Lucius casually flicked his wand in her direction, completely immobilizing her. Lucius' eyes, however, could not be torn from the traitor.

"You know what she means to the Order," he said darkly. "Her capture alone will secure Potter for us. But," he paused dramatically, "I grow impatient."

Desh swallowed. His eyes darting from Hermione's rigid from to Lucius' terrifying gaze.

And then Lucius stood back and gestured to Hermione with a sick smile. "You know what must be done."

Desh shook his head. "No. You said...y-you said that once she was here that I was done. That my family was s-safe."

Lucius' face did not waver. "This is your last task."

Desh's eyes darted frantically around the room. "I...I will not cast an Unforgivable."

Lucius blinked, his expression phlegmatic. "My friend," he whispered chillingly. "I beg to differ."

And in only a fraction of a second, the spell had been released from Hermione and Lucius had turned to his companion.

"_Imperio._"

Desh's eyes immediately glazed over, a strange film covering the normally clear fluid of the eye. "In the past few years I have done some experimentation," Lucius said as he returned his gaze to Hermione. "For _science_, if you will."

Hermione swallowed, looking over her shoulder for the comfort of the wall.

"That is what the Muggles call it. Science?"

Hermione said nothing, and he pressed on. "A rather specialized form of the Cruciatus." Hermione's eyes widened with terror and understanding. "And from what I _hear_ from my lovely volunteers, it really is quite extraordinary."

He took a step forward and stopped a foot in front of her. "You are not unfamiliar with the Cruciatus. I was there when my dear sister-in-law was using the spell on you. Perhaps," he said as he scratched his chin with his wand. "...you can tell me which one you prefer."

And then the nonsensical Gryffindor courage reared its ugly head.

"You can go to hell."

Lucius smiled. "I hope so."

With more speed than a striking serpent, Lucius had raised his wand and muttered an incantation that caused Desh's wand to spout a crimson stream of light. And without warning, the Cruciatus concentrated itself not on Hermione's entire body, but solely on her right knee. It felt as though someone was burrowing under the kneecap with steel talons. Hermione immediately buckled and fell. The pain was so sudden, so enormous, that she could not even scream. She reached out and groped the air, willing him to stop, but there was absolutely no give.

His voice was barely a whisper. "Its concentrated to a specific area, as I am sure you are now aware. Lovely isn't it? The force of a spell that _powerful_, combined with maximum focus. Ingenious, wouldn't you say?"

Hermione's head was swimming. She knew she was close to losing consciousness. And just as suddenly as it had come, Lucius released the spell. Hermione nearly collapsed in relief. The whole of the incident had probably taken less than five seconds. Lucius looked at her. He had a trace of a hint of a smile on his demented face.

"I want to know everything there is to know about the Order."

* * *

_A/N: A rather cruel cliffhanger, I know. I apologize, yet again, for the delay on this chapter. Life was insanely busy the last two weeks or so. I hope you can all find it in your hearts to forgive me. :) A few descriptions were taken from the brilliant mind of Harlan Coben - if you haven't read his novels, you need to. Simply amazing. And out of sheer boredom at work, you can always send me your favorite stories so I don't lose my sanity while working. :) I hope everyone has a wonderful 4th of July (all you fellow Americans out there), and for my wonderful friends across the pond, have a brilliant Friday and fantastic weekend! I hope to update more quickly for the next chapter._

_PoetryFreak, my e-mail is being insuffrable. Try me again. Thanks!_


	15. Chapter 15

_"It is always darkest before the dawn."_

- Unknown

* * *

**Chapter 15: The Darkness**

* * *

The first time Severus Snape thought he might truly go mad had absolutely nothing to do with incompetent, dunderhead students. And while he was currently in the company of a former student he would have at one point in time not hesitated bantering and criticizing at his mediocre abilities, even Severus knew better.

The boy-who-lived was anything but mediocre.

Obnoxious, yes. Mediocre, no.

"There's nothing here," Harry Potter said in frustration as he ducked under a low tree branch, heavy with snow. "And this is the spot. I recognize the stream."

Severus stared unblinking at the topography around him. The stream Potter spoke of was now frozen. A nagging sensation - a sensation that they were standing right on top of something, some clue, some final piece of the puzzle - would not leave him. He had briefly entertained the idea of not bothering to cast concealment charms as they made their way deeper into the forest. A part of him - a large part - embraced the notion of capture. The Death Eaters, he reasoned, would take him and Potter straight to Hermione. Though, what good he would be to her as a fellow prisoner without a wand kept his rational and nerves in place.

They had cast the wards and covered their footprints in the snow without another thought.

Too much time had passed. It was now nearing evening, and the dark whisper of wind chilled Severus to the bones. Despite the adrenaline high he had experienced over the past several hours, his body ached with fatigue.

As though reading his thoughts - and Severus was beginning to become entirely suspicious of this once hated student - Harry said, "We should rest for a bit."

"Hmph," Severus growled, as he winced against the setting sun. "I think not. We've wasted enough time."

"We're not going to do Hermione any good if we can't stand on our feet properly," Harry countered, brushing some snow off a fallen tree trunk. "Twenty - thirty minutes, tops."

Severus ground his teeth together in frustration. Why the hell was Harry Potter trying to be the rational one? Was that statement not an oxymoron in and of itself? His escapades at Hogwarts notwithstanding, Severus knew Potter to be rash, impulsive, and annoyingly Gryffindor. Had the world gone completely mad? Severus pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. He felt weak. Somewhere, no doubt nearby, Hermione was being held against her will - with Merlin knew what happening to her. He shuddered and looked to his hands, not allowing that train of thought to carry him any further down that particular despairing road.

Moving a stray strand of black hair from his eye, he stared ahead at the graying snow.

"Twenty minutes."

* * *

Hermione woke up and lifted her head and almost screamed. Her knee throbbed. It felt as if someone had sent off a Muggle bomb inside the joint. Rubbing her checks, she felt dried tracks of saltwater from where she had attempted to fight off the tears, but had lost in the end. As she lay there, breathing heavily, she wondered if she'd be able to walk.

It was completely dark again, and as she made to sit up, a slight rustling near her caused her heart to leap into her throat, and she knew she was not alone.

"Hermione?" A tentative voice asked.

It was Desh.

"What the hell do you want?" Hermione spat, her voice raspy from lack of use.

"I...y-you can't begin to understand how s-sorry I am."

"I'm sure," she replied without feeling, attempting to swing herself around to scoot as far away from him as she could get. But her muscles were two steps beyond sore and she ached in places she didn't even know she had. Scooting was a bad idea. A very bad idea. Slow. That was the ticket as her fingers dug into the crevices of the stone beneath her. Slow.

"Lucius threatened my family," Desh explained desperately in the darkness. "He said that if I didn't help him...that he would kill my wife and girls. My little girls, Hermione. Can you possibly understand that? Do you know what he said he would do to my wife?" He asked as he suddenly began to choke and sob uncontrollably. "He said he would...strip her naked and take a Muggle bullwhip to her. Hours, he said. Hours! That she would die slowly and then he'd h-hang her from one of the trees outside. That she was to be an e-example."

Hermione stilled herself in the darkness.

Perhaps things weren't as black and white as they seemed.

"What else could I have done?" He asked between frantic sobs. "My darling wife...my little girls. I...I had no choice. I never would hurt anyone intentionally, surely you know that! Blood supremacy?" he scoffed. "Do you honestly believe that matters to me when my wife is Muggle-born? All I wanted was to protect my family. I never meant to hurt anyone!"

Breathing a little raggedly, Hermione's mind was whirling with the implication of Desh's words. Was he trying to trick her? To get her to confide in him with information that he could run right back to tell Lucius? But then again, what did she know that he did not? They were both in the Order, and the only thing she had kept from the other members was that there was a traitor in their midst. She tried to think, tried to organize her thoughts, but the throbbing in her knee cap seemed to overwrite her brain's ability to ascertain what was going on. No, she decided at last. Desh's tale was too...real, too _desperate_.

Trusting that strange sensation in her gut, Hermione was suddenly certain Desh spoke the truth.

"I never meant to hurt anyone!" Desh was saying again. "And now...now I'm stuck in here while that monster goes after my family! They'll have no warning...I didn't...," he sobbed, "I didn't tell them anything...I thought it was s-safer that way..."

And then he resolved into a fit of choking and gurgling as he virtually lost control of himself. Hermione gave him a few moments, wincing every few seconds at the pounding in her knee until Desh slowly calmed himself, sniffing and coughing in the darkness.

"Desh?" She asked tentatively.

He didn't respond, but the sobbing didn't start again either. Hermione took that as a good sign.

"There will be people looking for me," she ventured. "If...they find us...in time, they'll protect your family. The Order will put them in hiding. Lucius won't be able to hurt them."

It was idealistic at best, she knew; but Hermione knew the only thing that would calm the man breathing raggedly next to her in the dark would be hope.

As naive as it might be.

She tried to think, to find something wonderfully articulate to tell him. How ironic, she mused, that she was trying to comfort the very man who had betrayed her and the entire Order. And like a Muggle movie, her mind kept flashing back to Lucius and how he had hurt her so casually through Desh and the Imperius Curse. Odd enough, she could not focus on anything else. There had been no emotion. He hadn't been moved to either ecstasy or revulsion. There had been nothing there. No strain, no sweat.

"No one will find us," Desh said despairingly, bringing Hermione back to the present. "This castle is too well concealed, repellent charms notwithstanding."

"Castle?"

"Yes," Desh sniffed, becoming more coherent by the minute. "It's an old Muggle castle. Lucius said it would be perfect for headquarters. There is a legend among Muggles, evidently, that it's haunted. And wizards, well, they'd have no reason to come out in the middle of a forest in Germany."

Hermione nodded, though she knew Desh could not see it. It was silent for several moments.

"Who, did you say, would come looking for you?"

Hermione swallowed. "How long has it been since I've been here?"

There was a rustling as Desh shifted and crawled to the far wall. "Almost two days, I'd say. You were...out for a bit."

_Two days?_

Her parents would have surely contacted Harry by now. She was meant to have dinner with them Christmas Eve, which meant today was... Boxing Day? Harry and Ginny kept a mobile for emergencies. Her parents must have phoned by now. And if Harry knew, Minerva and Severus were not far behind. Taking in a shaky breath, Hermione closed her eyes.

_Severus._

Was he out looking for her? Or, she thought with a chilling shudder, had he and Harry been captured as well? She shook her head at the thought. No. If they had been captured, they would likely be here in this Godforsaken cellar with her; and she would likely be dead - having fulfilled her purpose.

"Severus," Hermione said in a reverent whisper, "Severus Snape and Harry Potter. If they're alive...they will come."

"Yes," Desh said quietly, though he did not elaborate. Evidently, his faith in Severus and Harry was as shattered and dim as his hope for his family.

"Are you," he asked after several moments, "...alright? The Cruciatus is unbearable as it is, but Lucius' experiments are...the worst sort of pain."

"He used it on you?" Hermione asked quietly.

"My...my arm, yes."

Hermione blinked as she hesitated with the next question. "C-can you still use it?"

Silence.

"A little."

At least he was honest.

The moment Hermione had felt the steel force of the spell on her knee, she wondered, through the pain, if she would be able to walk again. And then without warning, horribly - jolting her back to reality like a bucket of ice water over her head - Hermione heard the echoing of distant footsteps approaching and she began to panic. Scooting, whimpering each time her knee moved even the smallest of degrees, Hermione made a pathetic attempt to move as far away from the sound as she possibly could. What good it would do her, she did not know, but all she could think of was fleeing.

The cellar door opened dramatically as Lucius walked casually over the threshold. Without taking a break in his stride, he flicked his wand in Desh's direction, immobilizing him as he continued over to where Hermione cowered in the corner. Squatting down beside her, his gray eyes combed over her body for the slightest of moments.

"Tell me what you know about Harry Potter."

His voice wasn't demanding or threatening. Surprisingly, it was almost conversational.

Hermione stared ahead, willing the tears back as she looked at him.

And said nothing at all.

In less than a second, pain exploded in Hermione's already throbbing knee. Laying there, flinging on the stone floor like a fish on a hook, Hermione thought her body would simply give out. Lucius turned his head from her to look back at Desh.

"I want you to see this."

And then he looked at Hermione again. His voice, almost gentle. "Tell me what you know about Harry Potter."

Hermione opened her mouth but nothing came out. He nodded as if he'd expected that.

_Fight it!_ She thought with desperation. _You're not weak, fight back!_

But he already had his hand on her arm, pinning her down.

"You already know everything," she managed to choke out.

He nodded in the way someone does when they are not listening. There was nothing on his face. It was dead. Long dead. And by the crown of her head, he lifted her upper body and brought her face close to his, observing her as he would any other mundane task. It was a welcome relief from the pain that racked her knee, but a moment later he dropped her to the floor, creating a new searing sensation in her ribs. Hermione's vision started to go hazy, and she vaguely wondered if this was the end.

_Severus, If I'd had the chance..._

Crouching low, he straddled her body, this time not even bothering to look her in the face.

"Tell me what you know about Harry Potter. Or," he added with a twisted smile. "My old friend, Snape."

She felt the tears coming and let them fall. She said it again, that he already knew everything about the Order through Desh - that there was nothing else she could give him. But he flicked his wand again and her knee felt as though it were on fire. She tried to buck, to resist the pressure and the pain. She threw her head back and forth in agony. For a moment he let up. And then the pain came again, stronger than ever.

Through the thick walls of the castle, several stories upward in a modest room with a burning fire, Draco Malfoy covered his ears with white hands as he attempted to drown out the awful sound that was Hermione Granger screaming.

* * *

Severus awoke with a start.

His palms were covered in sweat, his chest clammy. Looking ahead into the darkness, he breathed unevenly. The pale moon broke through the black like a solo beacon. The sound of Potter snoring nearby made him jump.

How the hell could he had fallen asleep?

And more importantly, Severus thought, as he quickly stood and brushed the snow off his cloak, was there any merit to the awful dream he had just witnessed?

Hermione was being tortured, cruelly and horribly. Her screams still echoing in his head. The panic rose. Was it his own hidden fears creeping into his head, or was this some other prophetic, telling vision? He had seen her in his dreams - months, years ago. Calling for help. She, evidently, had shared the same dream about him. And he had come back. When he couldn't stand it any longer, he had come back. And once in her presence again, the dreams - or rather nightmares - had stopped.

Dumbledore, the bumbling fool that he was, had suggested that it didn't take a Horcrux to lodge a piece of one's soul into another.

"Potter," Severus said urgently. "Get up. We need to move."

The younger man stirred, slightly disoriented. "What time is it?"

Severus looked around wildly. "We slept much longer than we should have." And then he added more frantically. "We've been dawdling here wasting time. Let's move."

He heard Harry standing and brushing off his robes and cloak.

"Which way?"

In response, Severus began walking blindly forward at a pace that Harry had to jog to catch.

"How do you know this is the way?" Harry asked again, trotting behind him.

"I do not know if this is the way, Potter!" Severus shouted, suddenly whirling on Harry. He was a good head taller than his former student, and Harry shrank back slightly at the sharp voice. "All I know is that we've wasted precious time and that Hermione is being tortured and that we need to move in some direction!"

There were no other sounds in the woods. No crickets, no animals. All life had long since hibernated. The enveloping silence around them made Harry's deep breaths all the more amplified as he stared at Severus in quiet bewilderment.

"Okay," he said tentatively. "Okay, let's move."

Severus turned again, crunching through the thick snow with Harry following clumsily at his heels. They continued on in silence for a long time, Severus leading the way, and Harry concealing their footprints behind them. Aside from their breathing and the snow crunching at their feet, it was purely silent. Perhaps that should have been an omen. The deep chill in the bone. The tightness in the air. But they pressed forward in silence, until Severus halted abruptly in his tracks. Harry, who had been turned to erase their footprints, whirled around in alarm.

"What is it?"

A cloud passed in front of the moon, turning the night into something pallid and gray. The air was still. Severus' narrowed eyes tried to adjust. Just ahead of him, if his eyes shifted ever so slightly, there was a strange silhouette. It seemed to shift and change in the dark. Severus held his breath. It was difficult to make out, but for a moment he saw it. Or he thought he saw it. He may have blinked, but when he looked again at the same spot, the silhouette had changed.

"Potter," Severus whispered as loudly as he dared. "Look ahead. Eleven o'clock. What do you see?"

Harry adjusted his glasses on the rim of his nose, wand drawn, as he squinted into the darkness. And then, like a great paradigm shift, he saw it.

Magical energy.

Severus' heart slammed into his throat as he saw the recognition cross Harry's face. Magical energy, as entirely boring as it sounds, is not entirely difficult to detect. In fact, it's rather simple. In a classroom setting - in "normal" circumstances - students see and sense it everyday. But crossing an unknown and foreign forest in the middle of the night, not knowing what you're looking for...Severus was surprised he had caught it.

For there a long while there was no sound. Severus' mind was racing with what their next step should be. It was, quiet obvious now, a giant concealment charm that they had stumbled upon. Potter, he was certain, was likely running through the trained scenarios of the Auror Deparment, as inadequate as they likely were. The clouds now blocked the moon. Maybe Hermione was just beyond the magical concealment. Maybe he was only feet away of finding her. Severus opened his mouth to speak with Harry.

That was when he heard her scream.

* * *

Hermione wasn't sure at what point she had passed out. But as she opened her eyes, she thanked whatever God or celestial being might be watching over her for that tender mercy. She didn't dare to move her right leg. Her knee felt as if it'd been ripped apart by shrapnel. Her mouth was completely dry and she swallowed, trying to conjure up some saliva.

"D-Desh?" she asked hesitantly into the darkness. Her own voice sounded strange in her throat, as if it were not her own.

She expected to hear some rustle, some movement beside her. But it was silent.

"Desh?" she tried again, wetting her dried lips with her tongue.

Silence.

Hermione debated whether or not to move, to feel for his presence beside her. Perhaps he was sleeping. Or maybe Lucius had taken him and she was alone again. That thought, surprisingly, terrified her. Though he hadn't been in the cellar with her long, the presence of someone else had been slightly comforting. Assuring.

She swallowed and called again. "Desh?"

"He won't answer you," a familiarly chilling voice said, causing Hermione's heart to jump violently against her ribcage. She had jerked at the sound, jarring her shattered knee, and for a moment all she could do was be still, as her head swam in agony.

After several dizzying moments, Hermione whispered into the dark, "Malfoy?"

A beam of light shot from his wand and Draco Malfoy nodded.

"Yes."

Licking her lips, Hermione's head rolled to her side, and from her prone position she saw the still form of Desh Blackwater laying an arm's length away.

"Desh?"

"He won't answer you," Malfoy said again.

Hermione closed her eyes. "Is he...d-dead?"

Malfoy stared ahead, saying nothing.

"Oh, God," she managed, losing control of herself for a moment. Malfoy, however, seemed rather nonplussed.

"Malfoy," she whispered after several moments. "Please...just end it."

He raised one light eyebrow, genuinely startled.

"I...I can't take any more. Just end it. Please."

Malfoy closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.

"I'm not going to kill you, Granger," he said at last.

The tears fell, trailing down her cheeks and onto the stone floor. "Please, Malfoy," she choked. "I beg you. Give me this one mercy. P-please."

He sighed heavily and stood, making his way over to her. She was a pathetic sight. Her hair - hair that had always been a nightmare in Malfoy's opinion - was a tangled mess on the floor. She had several cuts and scrapes on her face and arms - angry red marks that stood out against her much too pale skin. There was a layer of sweat on her forehead, the strain caused from too much endurance. Leaning over her, he sighed once more.

"I'm not going to kill you," he said again, this time more quietly.

She was trembling from the cold, her dried lips quivering from crying.

"Please," she begged.

In response he stooped next to her, placing his arm under her neck. "I'll try not to hurt you."

She looked confused, startlement creeping over her pained features. And with his right arm, he scooted it carefully under her knees and lifted her into his arms. Hermione nearly screamed with pain, slamming her fist into her mouth to keep quiet as her knee throbbed from the movement.

"I'm sorry," Malfoy whispered. "But we have to be quick."

"Quick?" Hermione asked, after she gained some semblance of control. "W-where are you taking me?"

He was moving now, and every step jolted her knee like a thousand volts.

"I'm getting you out of here."

_Out of here?_

Hermione's mind fought to comprehend the implications of his words. "But... I don't understand."

"There's nothing you need to understand," Malfoy said tersely, as he crossed the threshold of the cellar and began to ascend a steep flight of spiral stairs.

Each step was agony - every movement of her knee as he carried her - torture. Her body went completely rigid, her hands dropping - hanging from Malfoy like a dead body. As she ground her teeth and closed her eyes tightly, she wished he would turn around, go back, and set her down where he found her.

"I'm going to have to leave you in the forest," Malfoy was saying, though his voice sounded strangely distant. I can't risk taking you back to London."

"The forest?" Hermione asked weakly, struggling to grasp what was happening.

"I'll send a message to Snape. He will come and retrieve you."

Biting her lip to the point where it literally split, Hermione asked quietly, "Why, Malfoy? Why are you doing this?"

He sighed and paused, the lack of momentum causing Hermione's knee to abruptly stop. Throwing her fist in her mouth again, she suppressed a scream.

"Why did you always have to ask so many damn questions?" It was a rhetorical question, Hermione knew. But she was confident she couldn't answer him in that moment, even if she had wanted to.

"Your blood," he said nervously as he glanced around the narrow stairwell. "...is no different than mine. No different from any Muggle, even. The first time I had to...kill someone at my father's hands...I saw that shocking truth."

Hermione's sorrel eyes widened and she looked at Draco Malfoy for the first real time in her life.

"We are the very same," he said.

He started ascending the stairs again, more quickly this time. "I never wanted any of this. I hated you, yes. But I was never a killer. My father, my father turned me into this monster. Do you think I wanted to live in hiding the rest of my life? That I wanted to live like a transient? I wanted the manor that was left to _my name_, Granger. The balls, the feasts, the money, the status - I never wanted to kill."

Hermione's head was swimming - from the pain in her knee as well as from Malfoy's words.

"You can still stop this madness."

"Me?" she asked feebly.

Malfoy came to a plateau, looked in both directions and continued down a large nave. "Yes," he whispered. "Tell the Order what you know. You've been in the castle so you'll be able to see through the concealments when you come upon it again. The northeast quadrant of the forest is all you need to know."

"But," she whispered, "They'll know you helped me escape."

Malfoy smiled, actually _smiled_ as he hurried down the nave. "What? You all concerned for me now, Granger? I'd say hell has frozen over."

"I'd say the same thing," she replied dryly, "Seeing how it's you that's helping me escape."

The smile lingered for only a moment before he replied. "My father will not suspect me."

"Why not?"

Malfoy adjusted the weight of Hermione in his arms, and again, she threw her fist in her mouth.

"Desh," he said simply.

_Desh?_

And then Hermione knew. As surely as she knew the sun rose in the east, she knew.

"You killed Desh," she whispered.

"Yes," he replied without hesitation. And when Hermione said nothing, he added, "It was the mercy you spoke of so passionately to me earlier. To end suffering."

Killing Desh had been a diversion. Lucius would think he had helped Hermione escape and Malfoy had been forced to kill him in the process - though losing his most prized possession. It was, despite the morbidity, brilliantly executed.

"Your father tortured him?"

"Yes," Malfoy replied. "But he had more terrible plans still in store. I merely spared him that and saved you. And now _you_ can save his family."

Hermione remained silently limp in his arms.

"You disagree with me," he offered as he rounded a corner, lighted by several torches.

"I...I honestly don't know."

He nodded. "The world is not black and white, Hermione."

She looked up at him, startled by the intimacy of her name.

"I know."

He quickened his pace again, each step jolting Hermione's knee violently. She moaned quietly like a wounded animal as he carried her forward. At last they came to two huge wooden double doors, and Malfoy adjusted his grip on her as he moved to release the hinge.

The cold air hit Hermione like a ton of bricks.

"I'll send the message to Snape as soon as I leave you. It shouldn't take long," he whispered.

He walked forward through the crunching snow and rounded a large pine.

"Thank you," Hermione chattered, not knowing what else to say.

Malfoy nodded and was about to set Hermione down next to a thick tree trunk, when two wand lights momentarily blinded his vision.

The darkened figures of Harry Potter and Severus Snape glared like wild animals from behind the light.

The moment Severus saw movement adjacent to where he and Harry were standing, he ran blindly forward like a madman. And the moment he saw Draco Malfoy carrying Hermione Granger around a large tree, his heart exploded. For a moment, he couldn't move. He couldn't speak. She was completely still in his arms, and through the wild beating of his heart, he was not sure if she were alive.

But even in the darkness his keen eyes caught the breath leaving her warm chest and the slight trembling of her fingertips.

A wave of relief flooded him so completely that he felt as though he were falling - plummeting down a deep and narrow shaft. And when the light of his and Harry's wands touched her face, she turned slightly, and his heart nearly stopped. There was no secret that she had been through an ordeal - her drawn face, the beads of sweat on her brow, the trembling of her too limp arms. But when her eyes met his there was an instant recognition, and her brow knitted together as though she were about to sob. Severus was taking a step forward to rush to her and gather her in his arms, when Harry spoke.

"What are you doing, Malfoy?"

Malfoy nodded a greeting.

"Potter."

"Put her down," Harry said furiously.

"You always were quite observant, Potter," Malfoy scoffed. "I was doing just that."

And then Malfoy's eyes sought for Severus' ebony ones. When he found them, he held them.

"You have to get out of here."

But Severus had already rushed toward Malfoy and held his arms out.

"Give her here."

Malfoy acquiesced without a word, shifting Hermione until he could hand her to Severus.

"She cannot walk," Malfoy said, rubbing his upper arms from the strain of carrying her. "Her right knee is badly damaged."

Hermione muffled a sob the moment she felt Severus' hands around her body. And Severus held her. He held her as tight as he dared without harming her. His black eyes squeezed shut and he smelled the familiar scent that was Hermione. She buried her face into his chest and sobbed. It was all Severus could do not to let out a cry of his own as Hermione feebly clung to the thick fabric of his cloak.

_She's safe._

_Thank God, she's safe._

How? He wondered, looking up to the heavens and seeing a break in the clouds and the starlit sky. How could this not be some cruel joke? Could she truly be safe? Was this real?

He did not care. She was in his arms; that was tangible enough.

She was real.

"What the hell did you do with her Malfoy?" Harry demanded with a full-blown rage.

Malfoy raised his hands in the air. "I saved her _life_, Potter, is what I did. Now put your wand down and get her the hell out of here. Don't Apparate until you're several meters past the stream. Otherwise, my father will know."

"This is some kind of trick," Harry said, glancing uneasily around him. "Where is Lucius now?"

Malfoy shrugged. "Out."

"I don't buy it."

"Then suit yourself and stay here and get yourselves killed. You're the one they're really after, anyway." Malfoy said as he turned to head back into the castle.

"Why?" Harry shouted after him. "Why help us now?"

"Ask Granger," he called over his shoulder.

And then he was lost to the darkness of the night.

Severus, who was still whirling over the wonder of Hermione in his arms, suddenly snapped into action. As carefully as he could, he adjusted her in his grasp to pocket his wand - he'd be damned if he was ever going to let her go - and then cradled her head in the crevice of his arm.

"Hermione?" He asked quietly, barely trusting himself to speak.

She had gone dangerously limp against him after she had first clung to him so desperately.

"You need to stay awake," he whispered. "Please, try to stay awake."

She looked back at him, unblinking. Her wet eyes searched his in the darkness.

"You came," she choked.

Severus couldn't help it. A rogue tear fell down his cheek. He turned away from Potter and replied, "Of course I came."

She smiled weakly, turning her head into his chest.

"She needs a Healer," Severus said loudly, authority radiating from his voice. "We must hurry."

Harry nodded. "Shall I carry her, then?"

"No," Severus snapped as he made his way through the crunching snow. And with each step, Hermione elicited a small yelp that nearly ripped his heart in two.

"Hang in there, Hermione," Harry said as he walked along side them. "We're nearly there."

The small yelps and moans, Severus soon discovered, were a good thing. As they continued on, his arms burning with the strain of keeping her as still as he possibly could, they began to gradually quiet. While it tore at him that she was in physical pain, at least he knew that she was conscious.

"Hermione?" He said as they neared the stream and she was all but silent. "You must stay awake. Can you hear me? I need you to say something."

Her eyes were knitted closed and she muttered something under her breath to appease him. Twice he nearly stumbled because his gaze could not be drawn from her face.

"Cast a warming spell on her, Potter," Severus said when her teeth started to chatter.

Harry quickly obliged, worry etched into every contour of his face. "Should we take her to St. Mungo's or Hogwarts?"

"Hogwarts," Severus replied immediately. "It is indefinitely more secure. Lucius could have spies at St. Mungo's - especially given her escape."

Harry nodded and walked ahead of them, clearing the low branches in his wake as best he could.

When Harry was a few meters off, Severus looked down at Hermione's still form.

"Hermione?"

Her eyes fluttered open.

"Please. Stay with me."

She opened her mouth to speak but her eyes suddenly closed, and she saw nothing but darkness.

* * *

_A/N: Well, I have Hermione and Severus together again, so that should make everyone sufficiently happy. :) Hopefully you don't all think I'm too disturbed or grotesque, but life isn't always pretty, folks. Anyways, as always, let me know your thoughts. What I should do next time. What I shouldn't do. I promise I listen! I hope everyone had a lovely holiday weekend...I'm not too pleased about going back to work tomorrow...And by the way - this was a quick update. Therefore, you should all leave me reviews telling me how happy you were about it. Otherwise I may take more time updating... Mujahaha. :)_


	16. Chapter 16

_"If you lose hope, somehow you lose the vitality that keeps life moving, you lose that courage to be, that quality that helps you go on in spite of it all. And so today I still have a dream."_

- Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

* * *

**Chapter 16: The Light**

* * *

You can only be strong for so long.

Severus was holding Hermione's hand when her eyes had finally fluttered open. He screamed for Poppy, who declared, in a moment of true obviousness, that this was a "good sign." Hermione had been out for three days. _Three days. _And while Severus had skulked in the shadows with gritted teeth whenever Potter and his moronic entourage had come into the Hospital Wing like a flock of clucking hens, he had no compunctions about holding her little hand when it was only he and Poppy.

Hogwarts' Healer had called for a specialist from St. Mungo's as soon as he and Potter had brought Hermione in, bursting through the double doors, out of breath, hair tangled, and forcefully demanding immediate attention for their precious cargo. The specialist was, in Poppy's words, a type of orthopedic surgeon for wizards.

Whatever the hell that meant.

Potter had nodded vaguely at the title, though whether or not he had truly understood its meaning, Severus did not know. And he did not care. The only thing he could think of as the sallow man poked and prodded at Hermione's knee was that if he happened to cause her irrevocable damage, he'd kill the "orthopedic" buffoon on the spot. And when the man had placed his thin fingers on Hermione's lower thigh to ascertain any damage there, Severus had nearly lost it.

"When you're quite done _groping _her, would you be so kind as to tell us the diagnosis?" Severus snapped, fury flashing over his dark eyes.

"Severus, really," Poppy chided behind him with a disapproving click of her tongue.

The news was not great, but Severus had been mentally steeling himself for the worst, so in hind sight, it felt like freedom. As the man's perverse fingers released their hold on Hermione's bruised knee, the Healer merely shook his head with a deep frown.

The small gesture caused Severus' heart to nearly jump out of his throat.

"There is some permanent damage," he informed the small group, which consisted of Severus, Harry, and Poppy. Severus shifted in rare discomfort. "I've done all that I can without having to replace the actual knee cap. I expect that she'll be able to walk again, though I fear she will always have a limp."

A limp.

Compared to the other horrifying alternatives, Severus could have laughed with joy.

And so now, three days later, as he clung nervously to her clammy hand and Poppy fretted with the sheets, Hermione slowly opened her eyes.

"Hermione?" he breathed coarsely, conscious of Poppy's gaze upon him.

Hermione blinked in confusion for several moments, no doubt trying ascertain where she was, until her eyes at last locked on Severus.

"Water," she managed in a raspy whisper.

Severus made to draw his wand, but Poppy had beaten him to the task, conjuring a tall glass on the spot. Hermione had reached with her free hand for the glass, her fingers shaking violently in the process, but only managed to lift her hand a few feeble inches off the bed. Severus turned and quickly took the object from Poppy, releasing Hermione's hand as he did so; and with more carefulness than the Healer would have ever given him credit for, Severus slid his hand under Hermione's head, softly lifting it from the nape of her neck, until her cracked lips reached the water glass.

Hermione coughed and sputtered as the cool liquid hit her lips, nearly chocking as her chest heaved; but she managed to swallow a few healthy gulps. Severus, as he handed the glass back to Poppy, appeared visibly distraught.

"Hermione?" he asked hesitantly again, obsidian eyes searching over her with worry.

And then, wonderfully, miraculously, as her soft and tired eyes met his, she offered him a weak smile.

Severus could have bawled.

"Severus," she whispered.

She reached out for him then, as much as she could in her weakened state, and when Severus' arms encircled her - damn Poppy and her meddling gaze - she clung desperately to the fabric of his black robes, as though drawing strength from him. Hermione's breathing was erratic; he could hear her trying to suppress the sob that was slapping up against her throat.

A moment later, she lost the valiant battle.

Severus held her, fiercely but gently, as he silently wished Poppy would have some sense of decorum and just leave.

After a long moment of fitful sobbing, bile rose up in the back of Hermione's throat and she made a retching noise as her hands went to her throat. Poppy, evidently deciding that she had given the pair enough of a moment, cleared her throat and stepped forward.

"Hermione, dear, I need to do a quick diagnostic. How are you feeling? Do you know where you are? Are you still in pain?"

With a furrowed brow, Hermione nodded.

"C-cold," she managed.

Severus immediately made to cast warming spell, but Poppy's firm hand grasped his forearm.

"No," she said brusquely. "She already has a fever."

"And so you expect her to sit here and freeze to death?" Severus roared.

"She has survived this much," Poppy said as she pursed her lips angrily. "She can handle a little chill, I assure you, Severus. Now, if you'd be so kind as to let me do _my job_..."

"Surely there is something you can do - "

Ignoring the former Potion's Master, Poppy turned again to her patient. "Hermione?" she asked gently, though Hermione thought her tone seemed rather condescending, as though the Healer were speaking to a five-year-old. "The chills will pass. Now tell me, do you feel any discomfort aside from your knee?"

Hermione thought about that. Her knee, strangely enough, was currently tingling and numb. The rest of her body, however, felt as though she had survived a stampede of raging centaurs.

"No different from the last time, Poppy," she replied quietly.

Severus, who had been carefully watching Hermione's every move, blanched. His eyes carefully took in the slight tremble of her hands, the quickness of her breath, and the shiver of her sweaty body under the sheet.

Panic screamed in his mind.

"She is not accustomed to this, Poppy," Severus implored as he held Hermione's cold hand. "You must do something for the chills."

"Severus," Poppy snapped with surprising force. "If you do not let me tend to _my_ patient, I will have you removed from this Hospital Wing immediately. I can assure you that I am quite capable and qualified to handle Professor Granger's situation - Merlin knows I did with you," she accused. "_More_ times that I can to remember."

And then Severus felt a weak squeeze on his dry hand.

"It's okay," Hermione whispered reassuringly. "I'm fine."

Severus swallowed hard as his eyes swept over Hermione's delicate features.

"Severus," Poppy said as she placed her hand on his arm lightly. "I'll need you to move in order to do a full examination."

He obeyed, if slightly grudgingly, as he watched the Healer wave her wand, stopping at various intervals as she muttered under her breath. Turning quickly, she bustled over to her storage cabinet and withdrew two small phials, shaking her head.

"You gave us quiet a scare, Hermione," said Poppy with a frown as she returned to the bedside and uncorked one of the phials. "Drink this, dear. It should do something for the chills." And then she glanced significantly at Severus. "If you should require anything, I will be in my office. Try not to excite her too much, Severus. She needs to rest."

Poppy gathered a few white sheets and hurried quickly out of the room, casting one final look over her shoulder before she exited. As her brisk footsteps quietly died away, Severus turned back to Hermione, who was regarding him intently.

"Hermione," he whispered, barely trusting himself to speak aloud.

Hermione closed her eyes and felt a rush of dizziness, embarrassed to find hot tears welling up again in the corners of her eyes. Then she felt rough hands on her cheeks, thumbs grazing her cheekbone as he said softly, his breath tickling her face, "I am so, _so_ sorry."

She opened her eyes at his comment, confusion etched across her pale face. "You have nothing to be sorry for," she managed over the lump in her throat.

"Yes, I do," he replied tersely, removing his hands from her face. "I should have been there."

The harshness of his voice surprised her. "It was my own fault," Hermione supplied miserably. "I let my guard down. And now I can't get Moody's voice out of my head."

Severus allowed himself a small smile at her comment, which dissolved quickly. "What," he said carefully, and then shook his head, steadying himself. Whether he was struggling with the particular words to articulate, or the harsh truth, itself, Hermione wasn't sure.

"What happened?" he asked softly, his jaw firm, as though preparing himself for something horrible.

Hermione swallowed hard and closed her eyes.

"L-Lucius," she managed in a small voice after a few moments.

Severus frowned, his brow knitted together tightly, though his jaw was working furiously and a blue vein was standing out abruptly against his temple. But he waited for her quietly in his perfect stillness, not wanting to press her.

It was a long while before Hermione opened her eyes. When she did, her soft gaze locked on Severus' visibly angered face.

"I wasn't sure I'd ever see you again."

He raised a dark brow in question, confusion sweeping over his features.

"I d-didn't...," Hermione struggled to explain as something caught on her throat. "...I wasn't sure..."

She took a deep breath and started again.

"I was certain Lucius would kill me. I...I didn't expect Draco."

Severus gave her a grave smile. "Nor did I." And then he added, almost as though he couldn't help it. "Potter's surprise would have almost been comical - if not for the situation."

Hermione laughed ruefully, an angelic sound to Severus' ears. "I'm sure," she said, careful not to break eye contact. She seemed to do better if she didn't move her eyes much. "Though I would have given my only copy of _Hogwarts: A History_ to see you two together."

Severus frowned and ran a calloused hand through his black hair. "There was no other way to find you. I, unlike some, am not limited by Gryffindor pride."

"No," Hermione said, bemused. "You just have your Slytherin stubbornness."

Severus frowned again, though there was a slight glint in his black eyes. Clearly he was pleased her sense of humor was in tact.

Head throbbing, heart pounding, Hermione looked at Severus in quiet wonder.

"How are you, though?" Severus asked uncertainly. "Are you at all...uncomfortable?"

She looked back up at him, at his dark eyes behind a shock of black hair, and wondered how she could have ever thought the man anything but gentle.

_How could I have ever feared you so?_

Hermione hesitated as she took a quick stock of her body. "I feel...okay. But my knee..." she trailed off and then shook her head. "Lucius...he, he did something to me that I've never heard of, or seen."

Severus looked at her sharply, his steadiness slipping for just a moment. "What did he do to you?"

Hermione shrank back slightly at the fury in his voice, but then remembered herself. It wasn't _her_ that he was angry with.

"A form of the Cruciatus. I...I've never...," she swallowed, her mouth dry. "It was...infinitely worse than the true Unforgivable," she admitted.

Severus stared at her, unblinking, visually trying to calm himself as the vein on his temple stood out again.

"I think it's a concentrated form of the curse," Hermione rushed on in a hurry, suddenly feeling uncomfortable under his gaze. "It seemed to focus on one point directly, and centered the force of the spell into one location."

She looked down at her hands and wrung them anxiously. "My...my knee."

Severus nodded slightly, still trying to control his emotions. "Voldemort had been...experimenting with something of the sort before Potter killed him. Lucius, no doubt, learned the technique through his former master," he growled angrily, the fury in his voice sharply acute. "A Healer from St. Mungo's came in to look at your knee," he supplied quietly a moment later. "He said you should recover fully...but for..."

He stopped and looked uncertainly at the eggshell white sheet on Hermione's bed.

"What?" she asked, forcing her voice to be steady. "Please, Severus. Tell me."

Severus looked her over with a bottomless, searching gaze.

"He said...," Severus took her small hand in his own."That you'd likely have a limp."

A limp?

She nodded dutifully as her heart sank, though she _was_ infinitely grateful it wasn't something more severe.

"Oh." she said, her voice shaking.

"Hermione..."

"It's fine," she replied flippantly. "I'm not so vain to be _that_ perturbed. I know I should consider myself lucky that is all that I'll have to deal with."

_Nightmares, notwithstanding._

Severus nodded gravely, though something in his eyes seemed to tell her he didn't quite believe the noble revelation.

"The Aurors?" Hermione asked levelly, clearing her throat. "Has anything been found at the castle?"

Severus' eyes lingered over her for a moment. "Potter has been back twice, two teams of Aurors with him. They have, unfortunately, been unable to locate the specific spot."

Hermione frowned, wincing slightly as she moved her knee, causing Severus' dark eyes to dance with worry. "But how can that be? Harry was there, wasn't he? Couldn't you find it?"

Severus shifted in his chair uncomfortably, suddenly becoming keenly interested in a loose thread on Hermione's pillow. "I...have not left Hogwarts since we brought you back."

"Oh," she said, unsure of what else to say.

He had stayed with her this entire time? A warm tingling sensation in her heart left her stunned, touched, dumbfounded.

"Severus, I..."

But he had leaned forward, his head inches from hers, as he bent and gently kissed her on the forehead, his thin lips lingeringly momentarily.

"Hermione," he heard the distress in his own voice. "_You_ are the only one that can lead the Aurors back to the castle. You...were the only one to have crossed the wards." He swallowed and shook his head. "No one else will be able to find the exact location."

Hermione's heart pounded loudly at the thought. She never wanted to go anywhere near those woods again - hell, she didn't have a desire to ever go to _Germany _again. What if Lucius saw her? Surely he would finish what he started in the cellar and Hermione was quite certain she would not be able to withstand another bout of an encounter with him. But a sense of duty shook her to her core. If she led the Aurors to the Death Eater lair, the war would be over. No more lives would be lost. No more innocent killings.

She could end it.

Wetting her lips with her tongue, Hermione's brow knitted together as she looked up at Severus. "W-Will you come with me?"

Severus appeared mildly startled, but replied immediately, "I would not let you go alone." And then he looked out a tall Gothic window, unable to meet her eyes. "I would not let you go at all...if it were not necessary. I will not leave your side; I promise you."

Hermione nodded and smiled softly.

"But you must first recover," Severus said as he turned to her. "And the Aurors will search in the meantime. It might not be necessary for you to go at all."

"Yes," Hermione said, though she doubted it.

"Hermione," Severus whispered, his eyes becoming intensely focused. "I...I wished to tell you - "

"Hermione?" Harry Potter shouted incredulously from the doorway. "Hermione! Madame Pomfrey didn't tell me you were awake!"

Quickly covering the distance of the otherwise empty room, Harry made his way to the far side of Hermione's bed and kissed her happily on the cheek. "Merlin, Hermione," he said seriously, "Everyone's been having kittens over you. How do you feel?"

Hermione smiled brightly at her friend, though Severus' harsh face resolved into a deep scowl.

"I'll be fine, Harry. How are you? Severus said you've been back to Germany."

Harry nodded levelly. "Yeah, though we can't seem to find a damn thing. I've asked Sna - er, Professor Snape to come," he said, nodding in the direction of the Severus' still form, "But he hasn't left the Hospital Wing much since we brought you here."

Hermione looked to Severus with a glorious smile, though the man had turned away from her, blushing slightly.

"Well, as soon as I can walk, I suppose I'll be back there with you."

Harry nodded with a small frown. "Ginny's come by once or twice. She wanted to make sure that you had a nice stack of books when you woke up." And then he heaved a huge satchel up from a visitor's chair and shook it with a small grin. "There's even a few copies of _Transfiguration Today_ that she said you'd like."

Hermione laughed quietly. "Ginny knows me too well. Give her my thanks."

Harry grinned. "I will."

"Potter," Severus said sharply, interrupting in the small silence. "I would like a word."

Harry appeared mildly startled, but he regained his composure quickly. "Of course." And then turning to Hermione, "I'll come see you again soon. Ron was here yesterday, as well. Everyone was worried sick. He'll likely stop by tomorrow."

He bent and kissed on the cheek once more. Hermione smiled. "Thanks, Harry. Bye."

Severus eyed Hermione for a moment before he stood and followed Harry out into the Hogwart's corridor.

"No news?" Severus asked, once Harry had closed the wooden door behind them.

Harry shook his head with a deep frown. "No. We've got be be close though. Our old footprints are everywhere in the snow." Scratching his head, he added, "I'm surprised not a one of those bastards has come out. They obviously can see us."

Severus nodded, looking over Harry's head to a flickering torch. "Lucius is waiting. Unfortunately for us, he is not foolish. He knows exactly what he's doing."

Harry rubbed the back of his neck. "You told Hermione, then? About returning to Germany?"

Severus scowled. "She still needs to recover. Have the Aurors scour the area. Whatever it takes. She should not be made to return so quickly when the memories are still fresh in her mind. She has...been through much."

Harry nodded. "I know. Her knee...has she said anything?"

Severus' eyes wavered for a moment. "She...said she was fine with the diagnosis, though I believe it is troubling her far more than she is showing."

"That's Hermione for you," Harry sighed with a slight shake of his head.

"Indeed," Severus agreed.

"You do realize something," Harry said as he raised his dark brow. "We've just had a civilized conversation."

"Don't push your luck, Potter."

Harry smiled. "I won't." He turned to walk away before he added, stopping himself in stride. "Professor, I...I wanted to thank you. Hermione...," he paused and looked to his feet. "She's been lonely for a long time. I can see now...that you would look after her."

If Severus was startled by Harry's comment, he didn't show it. Instead, he nodded with a slight incline of his head and opened the door to return to the Hospital Wing. When he rounded the corner of Poppy's office, Hermione was holding her hands on her lap, looking away from him out a high window as the snow fell softly.

"You and Harry seem to be getting along better," Hermione observed, not turning her head from the window.

Severus sat down quietly on a rigid chair beside Hermione's bed. "The latest edition of the _Dailey Prophet_ recently revealed that hell had, indeed, frozen over."

She turned from the window then, smiling gently as her soft eyes settled on Severus' face. With a deep breath, she reached out to him, taking his rough hand in hers.

"I knew you would come for me."

Severus swallowed and nodded.

Hermione looked down at their hands. His long, slender fingers seemed to engulf her little hand, but somehow, strangely, hers fit perfectly in his palm. Her thumb grazed the pad of his index finger when the doors to the Hospital Wing opened once more.

Severus sighed, annoyed, as he turned in his chair. "Poppy, if you must insist upon - "

But he stopped himself short. William Buckley, Head Auror of the Auror Department, stood solemnly in the entryway, flanked by dark skinned man Severus did not know.

"Severus Snape," Buckley said politely, with a nod of acknowledgement. "I must admit I find myself surprised to see you here."

"And why is that, Buckley?" Severus replied, only barely managing to keep his voice in check.

Buckley shrugged and walked forward, the other man following in his wake. "It was you who found our Hermione, was it not?"

"Yes," Severus replied tersely, pulling his hand away from Hermione as Buckley and his counterpart got closer.

Buckely nodded pensively. "Yes. Potter said you were extremely helpful." The man to his right grunted.

"Have you come to sing my praises, Buckley?" Severus drawled, rising to his feet.

"I certainly give praise where praise is deserved, but no. That is not the reason for my visit." His eyes flickered toward the hospital bed. "I have come to speak with Hermione."

"She is recovering," Severus growled.

"Then perhaps you should let her recover," the other man said harshly, speaking for the first time.

"Perhaps I should put you in your place," Severus snarled, his dark eyes flashing dangerously as he clutched his wand.

"That will not be necessary," Buckley said calmly. "We merely need a moment to speak with Hermione regarding the circumstances of her capture so that we can go forward with this investigation. It is of the most vital importance."

Severus scowled, annoyed by how much the man's infernal attitude resembled Dumbledore.

"Since it is _Auror_ business, we must ask you to leave, Snape," the unknown man said with a small grin.

Severus was ready with a sharp retort when Hermione said quickly, adjusting herself on her bed, "I'll be fine, Severus. I'm sure they'll only be a minute." She looked at Buckley significantly. "I am...quite tired."

Buckley nodded. "Of course."

Severus glared at Buckley and his counterpart for a moment, his dark gaze emitting all the hated he showed Gryffindor first-years, before his eyes shifted to Hermione and softened. Hermione's eyes locked with his steadily.

_It's okay_, she thought in her mind. _I'll be fine. _

He stared a her a moment longer before reluctantly nodding and then quickly turned on his heels, exiting out of the Hospital Wing with black robes billowing behind him.

"Hermione," Buckley said gently, as her eyes trailed after Severus. "We were all so very deeply worried about you. I am extremely glad you are back with us."

Hermione peeled her eyes away from the doorway. "Thank you, sir."

Buckley sat down as the dark skinned man stood behind him, arms folded across his barrel chest. "I do not mean to sound ungrateful for your safety or crass by any means, but I need to know everything you saw and experienced during your capture."

Hermione nodded slowly in understanding though a tight knot seemed to be forming its way into her stomach. She did not relish the thought of recounting her experience with Lucius.

"How were you captured?" Buckley asked, as his companion whisked out a quill and parchment. "Had you been followed?"

Hermione shook her head slightly, trying to articulate her thoughts. "It was Desh. Desh Blackwater." She briefly entertained the idea of telling Buckley she, Harry, Severus, and Minerva had suspected a traitor within the Order of the Phoenix, but when she heard the dramatic gasp at Desh's name, decided against it. No sense in telling a man suspicions of the past that had now come true.

"He was a traitor," she continued carefully, "...though it wasn't really his fault."

"Wasn't his _fault_?" The standing man demanded incredulously. "How the hell would that not be his _fault_?"

Hermione's brow knitted together furiously. "He was blackmailed," she spat. "His wife is muggle-born and Lucius threatened to kill her and his children if he didn't go along with his plans. Tell me," she leaned forward threateningly as her eyes narrowed at the dark man. "Would you have done any different?"

"I would have informed - "

"Enough," Buckley said firmly, raising his hand. "I will have no more interruptions, Kelic."

The man squared his jaw firmly, and nodded.

"Please, Hermione, go on."

Hermione swallowed. "As I _was saying_, he was blackmailed. After my capture and...torture, he told me what had happened. I heard the regret and despair in his voice. I know he spoke the truth."

"That will be decided by the Ministry," Kelic said firmly.

"Decide what you want," Hermione retorted, before Buckley could intervene. "Desh is dead."

A dark eyebrow rose up slightly on Kelic's face, but he forced it down quickly.

"Dead, how?" Buckley asked, writing something down on a parchment of his own.

Hermione opened her mouth to speak just as the image of Draco Malfoy popped into her head.

"I...I'm not sure. I saw his body. That's all I know."

Buckley nodded as he scribbled carefully with his quill.

"His family will need protection. Lucius threatened to go after them and the only reason he indulged Desh for as long as he did was to get information. They need to be put in hiding immediately."

Buckley nodded and quickly brandished his wand, muttering quietly as a blinding silvery light erupted from the tip and a small but powerful looking bear disappeared through the walls of the Hospital Wing.

"We'll protect them," Buckley assured Hermione.

"Send them to Australia if you need to," Hermione muttered, thinking of her own parents.

Buckley nodded, a small smile on his wrinkled face. "Is there anything else, Hermione. Any other details that we, as the Auror Department, need to know?"

Hermione bit her cracked lip and leaned against her pillow. "The only other people I saw were Lucius and...Draco - though I'm not sure Draco is an dangerous as the Auror Department might think. Lucius is most definitely in charge of the whole insane operation. I imagine the other Death Eaters come and go to the castle as they are summoned by Lucius."

Buckley nodded again, scratching the finishing notes on his parchment. "All right. I think that should do it for now, Hermione. Thank you. Get some rest and when you are capable, I will, of course, require a full report on everything that happened. Our priority, for now, will be Desh's family." He stood to leave with Kelic following like an obedient dog. "We're glad you're back with us."

Hermione stared after them, eyes narrowing as she observed Kelic's figure, insufferable man that he was. Once the door closed she leaned further into her pillow and closed her eyes as the throbbing in her knee gradually increased. She sighed and wetted her lips, waiting for sleep to take her. Having just slept for three days straight, she was surprised to find herself exhausted.

She must have been out the next minute.

And so she did not hear the door open quietly again. She did not hear the quiet footfalls approach her small bed. She did not hear the chair scrapping over the stone floor as a figure sat down next to her with perfect stillness. She did not feel her hair being tucked gently behind her ear, or the feather-light lips that kissed her forehead. And Hermione did not hear the deep, silky voice whisper into the darkness.

"I cannot, _will_ _not_ live without you, Hermione."

"I...I love you."

* * *

_A/N: Okay, okay. I know, I know. I'm horrible at keeping promises for speedy updates - but let me explain. Another idea for a HG/SS has popped into my head, unbidden, and I can't shake it. I simply cannot get it out of my head. You can't possibly imagine how difficult it is to not just stop everything I'm doing and start writing that one. I won't, of course, abandon this story. I debated writing them both at the same time...but I'm quite confident I would just confuse myself. Anyways, long story short...I've had lots of ideas running around in my head and its been difficult to concentrate on one thing. I hope the rest of the chapters of this fic are still "on par" with what I've been doing before. But the good news is...I'm going to be writing another fic, right? Also, I'm going to be in Vegas for the rest of the week/weekend, so the next update probably won't be quite as quick as I would have liked. You have been forewarned. :) _

_Thanks for all the comments and reviews so far. _


	17. Chapter 17

_"Love the moment. Flowers grow out of dark moments. Therefore, each moment is vital. It affects the whole. Life is a succession of such moments and to live each, is to succeed."_

- Corita Kent

* * *

**Chapter 17: The Hunt**

* * *

"No." Hermione shook her head vigorously as she eyed the wheelchair with narrowed eyes. "Absolutely not. I'm not an invalid."

Harry looked at his friend sympathetically and sat down beside her on the little twin bed, causing the mattress to sink.

"Hermione, it's not that bad - "

"Yes it is, Harry," Hermione snapped. "I refuse to be pushed around in that..._thing_ when I am perfectly capable of walking."

Harry sighed, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. "Snape seems to think it might be best. After you...fell yesterday...," he looked at her from the corner of his eye. "I thought you would listen to him."

Hermione scowled, a truly unpleasant feature on her face, and crossed her arms firmly across her chest.

It had been two weeks since she first regained consciousness in the Hospital Wing. Her muscles were still extremely tender, but once she had gone through the entire hoard of books Ginny had provided, boredom drove her to rehabilitation. Yesterday had been the first day she had attempted to walk, and as Harry so _kindly_ pointed out, she had fallen. Hermione's angered face flushed at the memory. Embarrassment and wounded pride had hurt her more than the pain in her knee when she collided with the hard stone floor.

And, of course, both Harry _and_ Severus had been there to witness it.

"I don't care, Harry," Hermione said firmly. "I'll fall a thousand times before I get into that _thing_."

Harry sighed again. "Snape won't be happy."

"I don't give a damn," Hermione rounded on him. "How the hell do you think I'm supposed to go back to that forest if I can't even walk? Were you and the other Aurors planning on pushing me through the snow? Or perhaps, up and over fallen tree trunks? Does that sound obliging?"

"Merlin, Hermione, don't sound so damn bitter."

"I'm _not_ bitter."

Harry held his peace as he stood and moved the wheelchair to the far corner of the Hospital Wing. When he turned back to face Hermione, the dark circles under his eyes appeared more prominent than ever.

"You haven't been sleeping," Hermione observed, her voice softer.

Harry shrugged.

"Let other Aurors go look for Lucius. You'll run yourself ragged."

"It's _my_ job, Hermione," said Harry. "I was there. I should be able to find a way past the bloody wards. And besides," he added angrily. "I'm the one that Lucius wants."

"All the more reason for you to stay away," Hermione pointed out, as she absentmindedly played with a stray hem on her robe. "It's almost worse, don't you think? Waiting, I mean. Waiting for something that we know is coming."

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "I wish we could have ended it that night. The night we found you." He looked to his hands, trying to remove a dirty smudge from under his fingernail. "I wonder what Malfoy is doing."

Hermione raised her brow. "Draco?"

Harry nodded.

"I don't know," she admitted. "I...I hope he's okay."

"Hermione!" Harry exclaimed incredulously, betrayal laced in his exclamation.

"He saved my life, Harry," Hermione said firmly. "None of it makes sense, I know. But he saved me. He didn't have to."

"Don't think that I'm not grateful for that. I just...I just don't understand his motive - which to me suggests that there is something more at work here than we understand."

"I'll agree to that."

And then Hermione placed her hands on either side of herself, preparing to hoist her body into a standing position.

"What are you doing?" Harry panicked, standing and placing his hands on her shoulders to keep her in place.

Hermione sighed exasperatedly. "Honestly, Harry. What does it _look_ like I'm doing? You were raised by muggles. You should know. '_If at first you don't succeed_...'"

Harry stared at her blankly.

"Try again?" Hermione supplied, but Harry merely shrugged.

"Merlin, Harry. Sometimes you're as thick as Ron."

"I wasn't raised by _normal_ muggles, Hermione. You above all people should know that."

Hermione did, of course, though she wasn't paying attention. Using all the strength in her arms, she pushed herself upright until she was standing shakily before Harry, clinging to his forearms for support.

"Hermione!" Harry hissed. "If Snape saw you trying to walk again he'd kill me!"

"Well, how on earth does he expect this war to end if I'm supposedly the only person to get past those wards?" Hermione snapped, red in the face from exertion. "Obviously I'm going to have to walk there."

"Hermione," a silky voice came from the entrance to the Hospital Wing, causing a sea of goosebumps to erupt on Hermione's arms. She didn't have to look beyond Harry's somewhat terrified face to know who it was.

Severus Snape walked stealthily into the room, disapproval etched into every nuance of his face. When he glanced at Harry, his face hardened.

"I told you to - "

"You try to reason with her," Harry interrupted, still holding Hermione so she didn't stumble. "I tried and _have_ tried for years."

Hermione rolled her eyes at the implication but looked to Severus seriously. "I'm just trying again is all."

Severus swallowed, a deliberate gesture, as his eyes moved back to Harry.

"I'll take it from here, Potter."

Harry nodded, waiting until Severus stood beside him to take Hermione's weight, and then quickly left, glancing over his shoulder before he closed the double doors behind him.

Severus looked at Hermione with an unreadable expression.

"Sit," he commanded.

"No."

His dark brow knitted together. "You will only injure yourself further if you attempt to do more than you have strength for, thus making your recovery process a longer ordeal, and subsequently, for naught."

Hermione swallowed and closed her eyes, trying to control the temper that had been more prevalent in the past two weeks than the entire course of her life. "People are _dying_. I can do something to stop this. I'm not going to let my damn knee get in the way of that."

And then she opened her eyes and met his gaze.

"I can do this."

"Hermione," Severus said softly after a moment, suppressing a sigh, "I'm certain there's not much you _can't_ do. But you must see the reason in this. If you injure yourself further, you will only hinder yourself in being able to return to Germany with the Aurors. It is unwise."

Hermione shook her head and lowered her right leg to the ground, only just realizing she had been standing on one foot.

"Let me do this."

"I _implore_ you to see reason here, Hermione," Severus said darkly. "You are intelligent. Think about your actions for a moment without letting your pride in the way."

"It's not about pride," Hermione said sharply. "I _can_ do this. I know I can. Now either help me or move out of my way."

Severus' jaw worked together tightly. "Do not force me to restrain you," he said slowly, enunciating each word with deliberate effort.

Hermione looked up at with him narrowed eyes.

"You wouldn't dare."

"I would," he countered firmly.

Grinding her teeth together, Hermione pulled her arms away from him with all her strength, releasing his hold on her, and purposefully took two great strides to her right, just out of his reach, wincing as she did so.

"Watch me."

"Damn your Gryffindor pride and stubbornness!" Severus snarled, reaching out to grab her and pull her back to the bed.

But in a shear act of defiance, Hermione stumbled away from him, hissing each time her right leg touched the stone floor. Severus caught up with her easily, of course, grabbing her firmly by her upper arms and shaking what sense he could into her.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"_Walking_," Hermione spat. "And as you could see, I could do it just fine."

"Oh really?" Severus drawled with a snarl. "And your hissing under your breath - I suppose that was just something you were doing for a dramatic effect."

"Let me go."

"Happily," Severus growled, all but lifting Hermione off the ground and taking her back to the small twin bed. He sat her down unceremoniously, folding his arms across his chest the moment her rear hit the sheets.

"Must you act so _childish_?"

"Childish?" Hermione retorted. "How is wanting to help end this war childish?"

Severus leaned over her menacingly, though Hermione did not flinch away. "Refusing to let yourself heal properly, running head first into danger when you, quite literally, cannot even _walk_, and further endangering yourself _and_ others would qualify as acting _childish._"

"What about agency?" Hermione demanded, physically restraining herself. "What about having the right to make your own decisions? Do you recall me telling you that I didn't need any more big brothers to _protect_ me? Can you possibly realize how condescending that truly is?"

Severus looked down at her darkly. "You have brought that upon yourself."

Hermione bit her lip to keep from jumping up and screaming, her chest heaving with too big breaths. After a moment of silently counting to ten - fifteen, Hermione folded her arms and looked at a nondescript spot on the white sheet.

"Leave me alone."

Severus snorted. "Unfortunately for yourself, I am not as unintelligent as Mr. Weasley. You should work on your subtlety."

Hermione clenched her hands into fists, popping her knuckles loudly in the process. "Leave. _Now_. I want to be left alone."

Severus' eyes flashed with betrayal before he regained control of his emotions. "I am not leaving you to only have yourself hobble around this room haphazardly. You may hate me, but it for your own well-being."

"I don't hate you," Hermione ground out. "But I want you to _leave_."

Severus stood silently, his breath sounding loud in his ears. "Will you promise not to walk?"

"No."

_Damn her and damn my heart._

"Then I will not leave."

Hermione brought her fist to her mouth to keep from screaming as she turned from Severus and settled roughly on the bed, her face to the tall window.

Why was he being so controlling? Was it not him that had inadvertently asked if she would return to the forest to end it all? And now he wanted her to sit in the Hospital Wing and rot? Did he have any idea how horrible it was being made to rely upon others? To have a damaged knee that would be noticed by everyone the rest of her life? Did he understand how _unfair_ that was? That she was only trying to help in the first place?

_But whoever said life was fair? _A voice in her head reminded her.

Hermione closed her eyes as she felt the hot tears coming, glad that her back was to Severus. She couldn't help it. The tears spilled freely and soon her entire body was shaking with each great sob. She heard Severus' footfalls approaching and scooted as far away from him as the tiny twin bed would allow.

"Hermione," he said, his voice suddenly soft.

"Go. Please go," she managed as she sobbed. "I won't walk, all right? Just leave me alone."

She could still feel his presence in the room, breathing quietly behind her.

"What? Do you want an unbreakable vow? I said I won't walk!" she cried.

She heard him move then, his steps soft as he walked away from her, and heard the opening and closing of the double doors. Once the doors closed again, Hermione sobbed more fiercely, clutching her pillow as if it were her only lifeline.

* * *

"How'd it go?" Harry asked with a mouth full of potatoes, as Severus angrily made his way into the Great Hall. Each purposeful footstep echoed loudly in the empty space. The house elf beside Harry cowered as Severus approached, the fury rolling off the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor in waves.

"That well, huh?" Harry added as he took a lengthy sip of pumpkin juice from his goblet. "Merlin, I forgot how good the food was here."

"Has she always been this stubborn?" Severus asked sharply, suddenly, though the question was mostly to himself.

"Yep," Harry nodded. "Though its saved my ass on more than one occasion."

Severus did not laugh. "She is one of the most intelligent witches alive. I do not understand how she does not know her actions are foolish."

Harry shrugged. "She probably doesn't see it that way."

Severus narrowed his eyes as he sat next to Harry on a long wooden bench. "Explain."

Harry wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "Well, as you said, Hermione's not stupid. Her behavior is..."

"Irrational," Severus immediately supplied.

Harry shrugged again. "Maybe. But it doesn't matter. Hermione can't stand being helpless. It's her ability to contribute that gives her a sense of purpose."

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. "I cannot _believe_ I am having this conversation - and with _you_, above all people."

Harry smiled smugly. "Likewise." Taking another sip of his pumpkin juice, he put the goblet on the table and turned to Severus. "Hermione _needs_ to have a sense of purpose. That's what's killing her."

Severus' brow knitted together furiously as he released his nose. "She has contributed more to the cause than most should ever have to. Surely she knows that."

Harry nodded. "I know. But growing up with Hermione...," he trailed off, searching for the right words. "She was always trying to prove she belonged to this world. Malfoy and his moronic entourage made a point of her blood status everyday," he said bitterly with a frown. "I think that's part of the reason why she pushed herself so hard. She wanted to fit in and know as much as everyone else did," he paused, choosing his next words carefully. "I imagine...that's what it must have been like for my Mum."

Severus' dark eyes flashed at Harry, surprised by the imposed intimacy of the comment.

"I'm sorry," Harry immediately repented. "I shouldn't have...it's not my place."

But Severus merely stared, looking at Harry curiously for a long time.

"If it _is_...anyone's place, Potter. I imagine it is...yours," he swallowed. "She was _your_ mother."

Harry nodded mutely, half-believing he was having a conversation about his mother with Severus Snape.

Perhaps he had strayed into a dream.

"Potter," Severus said after a moment, jolting Harry back to reality with a strange note in his voice, "I...would rather not speak about...her. Not right now, at least."

"Of course," Harry allowed, though he looked at Severus as though he had never seen the man before in his life.

"I am...worried about Hermione," Severus admitted, quickly changing the subject and not meeting Harry's eyes. "You are her closest friend, Potter. Perhaps you could - "

Harry shook his head, stopping Severus mid-sentence. "Hermione can't be persuaded if she's made a decision. If she's made up her mind that she's going to get up and walk out of here, she'll do it."

Severus scowled. "Infernal Gryffindors."

Harry chuckled. "You only have yourself to blame. You knew our nature before this whole mess got started."

"Indeed," Severus drawled. He sighed deeply, his expression turning pensive. "Will you...look after her tonight?"

Harry's brow furrowed. "Where are you going?"

Severus' face was set. "Germany."

"But we haven't found anything - "

"She shouldn't be made to go back there," Severus interrupted, a sudden darkness filtering over his face. "I must at least _try_."

Harry nodded as the little house elf took his empty plates. "At least take someone with you. None of us have gone alone."

Severus shook his head. "No. There's not an Auror in the entire Ministry that would willingly go with me."

Harry started to protest but Severus held up a hand. "Don't argue what you know to be true, Potter. There isn't anyone in the whole of the Ministry that would be caught dead with me." And then his lips twitched into a half smile as he added dryly, "I'm the evil Death Eater."

Harry appeared solemn for a long moment and then looked up at the enchanted ceiling, the snow falling ever faster.

"They don't know you."

Severus raised his brow. "And thank Merlin for that. I don't need any more social acquaintances."

Harry looked at Severus reproachfully. "You know what I meant."

Severus stood from the table. "Yes, Potter. I do. And what joy do you think awaits for me from said acquaintances?" He tightened his cloak around his neck. "Do you truly think I want pity from those whose judgement has followed me these many years? That I desire their company or _friendship_?"

Harry looked to his feet, clearly uncomfortable. "Well...no."

"You do not need to waste time and energy at my expense, I assure you." He patted the side of his cloak, searching for the familiar feel of his wand. "Watch over Hermione. I will be back before morning."

Harry's green eyes followed Severus' billowing robes until he exited the Great Hall. With a great sigh, Harry put his head in his hands and closed his eyes, silently wishing that for just one moment, his life would not be complicated.

* * *

Hermione heard the double doors of the Hospital Wing open and close. Her back was to the door so she couldn't make out the figure that was quietly walking towards her, though she could easily guess who it was. A chair moved slightly and the person sat, the room suddenly encompassed in silence again. Hermione breathed in deeply and closed her eyes, otherwise unmoving.

Harry had stayed with her earlier. She hadn't been able to sleep much the past few nights, restless as she was to do _something_. Harry had merely stayed; scratching his unruly hair every few moments, tapping his wand on the armrest of the chair, humming quietly to himself. He had sat and watched her, knowing full well she was awake.

He didn't address her, for which Hermione was grateful. She didn't need any pity from him and she certainly didn't want to discuss her earlier quarrel with Severus. Harry knew her well enough to know when to leave her be. And so he sat. Hermione dosed off a few times - the last time realizing that she was alone when she awoke; Harry's steady breathing was noticeably absent from the silent room.

Hermione swallowed, her eyes still closed as she now felt Severus' presence behind her, unmoving and perfectly still; the only sound, his quiet breathing. They sat that way for a long moment, Severus still and silent, Hermione with her eyes closed. What time was it? It had to be nearing morning, though the red light of dawn had not yet broken the Gothic windows of Hogwarts.

"I'm sorry," Hermione whispered after several moments of silence, her voice raspy from disuse.

It seemed a long time before Severus spoke.

"It is I who should apologize. I was...insensitive."

Hermione shook her head mutely against the pillow, still facing the window. "No, you were right. I was being...childish," she sighed. "I just want this all to be over so badly."

Hermione felt the slight brush of his fingers on her neck, gently moving her hair from her face.

"I know."

She turned to face him then, leaning into his touch. But when her eyes focused on the features of his face, she gasped.

"What happened?" she demanded, sitting erect and scrutinizing a gash that was angrily coming down from Severus' hairline. With feathery fingertips, she grazed the site of the wound.

"Nothing."

"Where have you been?"

Severus shrugged. "I am fine."

Hermione pulled back from him slightly, eying him with obvious doubt.

"You went back to Germany."

It was not a question.

Severus' black eyes were unreadable. He didn't confirm or deny the accusation.

"Have you seen Poppy?"

"No."

"Are you hurt anywhere else?"

"No."

Hermione sighed. "Do you want to give me something more than a one-worded response?"

Severus hesitated. "It is nothing. I merely came to check on you."

Hermione considered this. After a moment she asked, "Did you find anything in Germany?"

Severus sat perfectly still and then allowed a lengthy sigh.

"No. Nothing that Potter and the other Aurors haven't yet seen. The...cut is merely the result of an...unfortunate Apparation location."

Hermione nodded numbly.

Severus sighed again, reaching to pull her to his chest.

"I _am_ sorry, Hermione. It is an...unfair position you are in. If I could spare you this; I would."

"I know," Hermione whispered. "It's just...," she paused and closed her eyes, feeling Severus' heart beating against her cheek. "I _want_ to help. I do. But Lucius...," she shuddered and Severus' arms tightened around her. "If I saw him again...I don't know if I could..."

She shook her head against him, clearing the frightening possibilities as quickly as she could.

"He'll want me. I know it. He'll seek me deliberately. And if not in Germany then...sometime. Somewhere. I'm Muggle-born. He won't stop."

"I won't let him touch you."

Hermione looked up at him slowly, surprised by the fury in his voice.

"I swear to you. I promise it."

She swallowed, her soft eyes searching his face as the glory of dawn began to filter through the window at last, lighting the depths of Severus' black eyes. Slowly, she reached her hand upward and rested it on his cheek, eyes never wavering. She stared a moment longer, entranced by the man that held her so tenderly, until she slid her hand behind his neck, coaxing his head downward until his lips were on hers.

He moved gently at first, careful and deliberate. But when Hermione fought for his lower lip, he released her waist, and grasped her head firmly between both of his hands, knotting them into her tangled hair as he responded with fire. The light of dawn continued to grow, forcing the shadows to recede further and further into the Hospital Wing as Hermione and Severus continued in their passionate battle. At length, Severus pulled apart from her, knowing that if he continued much longer, he would not be able to stop.

"I have something I want to show you," he said quietly, focusing keenly on the golden flecks in Hermione's eyes.

"Oh?" Her voice seemed breathless.

Severus nodded slowly, reluctantly releasing his gaze on her as he fished his wand out of his robes and pointed it to the opposite side of the room.

Hermione's brow crinkled. "A spell?"

Severus sighed and offered her a forced smile.

"In a way."

And then he flicked his wrist.

"_Expecto Patronum._"

Hermione brought her hand to her eyes to shield them from the brightness of the Patronus. She blinked rapidly, her pupils adjusting to the brilliance of the silvery glow around her. When her eyes at last focused on the figure she expected to be a doe; she gasped.

"What? But..._how_?"

The creature sat on its haunches, glorious and perfectly beautiful. Its ears were perked forward, alert and eager; ready to do his master's bidding. Hermione stared with her hand over her mouth.

A wolf.

"I don't understand...I thought that the doe...Lily...I thought that was a part of you," Hermione sputtered, her eyes combing over the large wolf.

"It...was," Severus said carefully, his eyes on Hermione. "And still is...in a sense. But it does not consume me as it once did."

Hermione frowned, now looking to Severus. "What changed it?"

Severus looked to his feet and sighed. Looking up, his eyes locked with Hermione's.

"I should think that is rather obvious," he swallowed. "It was...you."

"Me?" Hermione appeared shocked. "How could I have changed it? I didn't do anything."

Severus smiled softly. "I beg to differ. And evidently my Patronus does as well."

Hermione shook her head, disbelieving. "When did you know? That it changed, I mean."

"Tonight," he said simply. "I needed to send a message to...Potter. It was the first time I had cast a Patronus in quite some time."

Hermione turned back to the silvery light. "A wolf," she stated slowly, as though trying the sound of it on her tongue. "It fits you."

Severus raised an eyebrow.

"Sometimes a...loner, sometimes with the pack," Hermione said carefully, taking Severus' face in her hands and looking into his black eyes. "But always fierce and loyal. Always ready to do what's best. What's right."

"It sounds as though you're describing one of those Muggle boy scouts," Severus countered dryly.

Hermione laughed loudly, her soft eyes looking over Severus with fondness.

"The Patronus chose the right form; trust me."

"How could anyone _not_ trust you, Hermione?" Severus asked incredulously. "Your thoughts are practically rolling off you in waves. It doesn't take Legilimency to ascertain your true motives."

"Oh really?" Hermione asked playfully. "And what is my motive right now?"

Severus' dark eyes flashed as they lingered on her face. Gently grabbing her chin and pulling her towards him, he whispered softly, "As I said; much too obvious."

And then he kissed her firmly on the mouth.

* * *

"Don't concern yourself with me," Harry chided gently, some two weeks later as he stood at the entry of the thick forest in Germany. "I can look after myself."

Hermione frowned deeply, working on her lower lip. Severus was barely six inches to her left - if that. "I really don't think you should go, Harry. Lucius specifically wants you. There are more than enough Aurors."

Harry sighed, folding his arms across his chest and then looked at the scene around him. Aurors were everywhere. In pairs of two's and three's, all were looking at enchanted maps, whispering back and forth to one another in huddles, checking and re-checking their sleeves for their wands.

"It's my job, Hermione," Harry said seriously. "I'm not sending you in there - you of all people - to just sit and wait and see how everything pans out." He drew his wand and twirled it like a baton. "I won't do it."

"_I_ don't have a choice, Harry," Hermione countered as she limped toward him. "_You_ do. Make the right one."

Harry tried to look anywhere besides Hermione's right knee, but somehow his gaze ended there anyway. "I am making the right one, Hermione," he said, turning to a group of Aurors that were congregating behind him. "Stick close to Snape. I think we're ready to go here."

Hermione sighed as Harry jogged away.

"You didn't honestly believe that he would stay, did you?" Severus asked, his lips a few inches from her ear.

Hermione jumped slightly, startled by his voice. "No," she said miserably, brushing a few snowflakes off her robe. "But I still had to try."

Severus nodded and looked over her head to the group that was speaking in hushed tones behind them. "I want you to stay close to me while we're in there. No foolish Gryffindor antics or heroics. If I tell you to do something, you give me your word now that you will do it." His eyes were gentle but intense, seeming to bore into her sole.

Hermione shrugged, too tired to argue. "As long as it doesn't involve leaving either you or Harry, then yes; I'll agree to it."

Severus' eyes narrowed. "Don't make Slytherin negotiations. I want your word."

Hermione smiled softly, and took a tiny, half-limp step toward him. "Well, I learned from the best, didn't I? And you should know me better than to think that I would leave either one of you out there if something went wrong."

Severus scowled. "I will not be able to do what I need to if I am...concerned for you. You must promise me this, Hermione."

"And why are you suddenly preparing for some impending doom?" Hermione demanded, resting on her left leg. "Don't you dare make this some kind of suicide mission, Severus. We're both coming out of that forest together, or I refuse to go in at all."

Severus considered her for a moment, his dark eyes unreadable, and then nodded. "As long as you keep to honoring your word about foolish Gryffindor heroics and reckless behavior."

Hermione repressed a small smile. "Fine."

It was foggy and dark in the forest. Only a thin layer of snow remained and as the sun slowly disappeared beneath the towering trees. Hermione shivered. She had cast a few warming charms on herself earlier, so she was confident that the chill that passed down her spine had nothing to do with the cold, rather; it was everything to do with Lucius.

"I told you I won't let him touch you."

Severus' voice was absolute. Hermione wasn't sure if she really _was_ that transparent, or if he had read her mind.

She sighed. "I know. But that doesn't make me...less afraid."

"Hermione...," Severus started, taking a step closer to her.

"It's fine," she said flippantly, holding up her hand to stop him from embracing her in public - she still hadn't yet figured out the mechanics of telling the wizarding world that she was falling in love with Severus Snape - her former professor in school. "I'm fine. Really. I am." She shuddered. "I just want to get it over with. Waiting for a battle that I can't escape is _worse_ than actually being in it."

Severus nodded. "I know."

"Okay, everyone!" Harry shouted from behind them, the mist of his breath visible in the impending twilight. "I think we're about ready here, so if we all want to huddle up we can get going."

William Buckley was standing beside Harry, solemn as ever, as Hermione hobbled over with her chin high.

"Thank you, Harry," Buckley said with a sad smile, the crow's feet lining his eyes emphasized by the gesture. "We're going to have three separate teams," he said, getting straight to business as soon as Hermione and Severus were within earshot. "Hermione Granger will be going in the first team, along with Kelic, Bowen, Watts, Whitney, and Severus Snape," he paused, as every face turned to look at Severus, their skeptical gazes mixing with fear and confusion.

"I want the two other teams as far away from the first team as possible. Harry?" he said, turning to Hermione's best friend. "Your group will come about on the east side, and my group will take the western edge."

Harry nodded and Buckley continued. "No one is to do anything until Hermione is able to breach the wards. Is that perfectly clear?"

Hermione looked around the group to see every head nodding in agreement.

"Perfect. Then let's get to it. Hermione? If you would be so kind?"

Severus stiffened beside Hermione, clearly displeased about something. But for some strange reason, Hermione's left foot was rooted in place, suddenly terrified into immobility.

_Isn't this what I wanted? To get moving? The waiting...that's what was agonizing. Waiting. So why am I suddenly so frightened?_

"Let's go, Hermione." Severus' voice was low and bleak. He gripped her elbow and pulled gently to get her to hobble alongside next to him. Hermione stumbled along, the first group of Aurors a few paces behind them, as she hurried to make a normal pace through the thin layer of snow.

"There is no rush," Severus said tersely. "Don't overexert yourself."

"I'm fine," Hermione replied numbly. "_Lumos!_" And a sharp beam of light acted like a beacon in front of her.

Severus looked down at her out of the corner of his eye with a frown, but didn't comment. "Do _not_ leave my side." His voice was cold. "Stay close and nothing will happen."

Hermione nodded. "I know."

Severus frowned, his jaw working tightly as he slowed to Hermione's pace.

The hunt had begun.

* * *

_A/N: So, Vegas is kind of an...interesting place. Don't get me wrong, I've been there several times before and love it; but it most certainly is 'unique.' :) On a side note, if you ever get the change to go and see the Phantom of the Opera there - do it. I hope you all enjoyed the chapter today. I know some of you felt as though I rushed Severus' feelings a little in the last chapter, though that was somewhat my intention...as Hermione wasn't awake to hear it. And for those of you who think that it should have happened a long time ago - don't worry. It's coming. :) Please leave your thoughts...I'd love to break the 300 review mark. Sorry again for the delay...that other story I was talking about is still walking around in circles in my head. :) Thanks for all the reviews so far!_


	18. Chapter 18

_"Our real discoveries come from chaos, from going to the place that looks wrong and stupid and foolish."_

-Chuck Palahniuk

* * *

**Chapter 18: The Forest**

* * *

"Hermione," Severus murmured, careful to keep his voice low enough so the others in the group wouldn't hear. "There's no need to hurry."

The limp was noticeable, which Hermione knew. She tried to keep a steady pace that would have been considered 'normal' a few mere weeks ago, but quickly found herself winded from the exertion of hauling around a bum leg. Evidently, it hadn't slipped by Severus.

"I'm fine," she whispered, smiling weakly, trying to make a joke of it. "We don't want to keep Lucius waiting."

Severus clenched his teeth. "This is _not_ a joke, Hermione."

Hermione stared up at him, shining the beam of her wandlight near his face, though it was hardly needed. The light from the full moon reflected brilliantly off the thin layer of snow that encrusted the forest. "What do you want me to say?" she asked bitterly. "Sarcasm is the only coping mechanism I have left."

He smiled without humor. "Say anything you like. But I do not wish to hear anything of Lucius."

"Why not?" She asked ruefully. "We're going to have to face him eventually."

"_You_ are not facing anyone," he emphasized. "We have already had this discussion."

"Yes," Hermione agreed. "We have. Though it was clear in the discussion that you were leaving the forest _with_ me - along with Harry, I might add."

Severus sighed, his face pained. "Please, Hermione," he whispered.

She paused for a moment to stare into his black eyes and then continued on at a slower pace, feigning ignorance. "Please what?"

"Please...for _me_. Promise that once we breach the wards, you'll Disapperate."

"You know the terms I agreed to," she replied stiffly. "And what about Draco? I don't want anything to happen to him. He...saved my life. The Aurors won't offer him any sympathy and you _know_ that. I have to tell him to get out."

He was silent for a moment, staring out ahead at the labyrinth of thick trees. "I will take care of Draco. But as for you, you must Disapperate. _Please_. Promise me."

"I am _not_ helpless," Hermione snapped, louder than she intended. Kelic and the others looked up from behind them, curiosity laced in their features. "You are asking me to give you a courtesy that you yourself won't return. How is _that_ fair?"

"I have unfinished business with Lucius," Severus replied in a harsh whisper, trying to quite Hermione's fury. "And you are not a part of that quarrel."

Hermione's glare turned icy. "Don't patronize me, Severus," she snarled. "_Lie_ to me. Refuse to say anything. Anything at all. But do _not_ patronize me. I wouldn't have bought that line when I was eleven."

Severus stared ahead unblinking for several moments, grabbing Hermione's wrist to help her over a large boulder as they distanced themselves from the others. "I apologize. I know it must seem...unfair to you," he sighed. "But you are right. I will not lie to you. I do not want you anywhere _near _that castle. As it is, things have already been set in motion and there isn't another alternative. But if something happened to you," he hesitated, unsure if he could speak the words aloud.

"I - It would destroy me."

"And you don't think I don't feel the same way about you?" Hermione rounded on him, her voice gradually peaking in a crescendo.

Severus sighed and Hermione could hear the smile in his voice. "I know you do. Though I am still trying to ascertain _why_ that is."

Hermione snorted, walking ahead of Severus with her chin high, though it was clearly difficult for her to do so. Severus eased his pace, following quietly in her wake, giving her some space. Hermione led on in silence, breathing the cool air into her lungs. Her mind was a myriad of thoughts and emotions.

_Why is he so damn stubborn?_

As she pressed on with her leg throbbing in the disquieting silence of the forest, it was with a frustrated sigh that she realized she shared the same stubbornness.

_Damn._

With Ron and Harry, Hermione usually managed to get her way. Her own persistence combined with her intelligence generally gave her the advantage she sought for. Of course, when Harry had his sights set on some ludicrous or asinine idea, there wasn't much she could do to sway him. Thank _Merlin_ he had - for the most part - grown out of those wild impulses. But she prided herself on keeping both Harry and Ron grounded.

Hermione, however, suspected that with Severus she would not hold the sway she did with Harry and Ron. She knew him to be an immovable force and doubted very much that he would relent if his mind was set - _especially_ where her safety was concerned. That, in and of itself, was a difficult concept to grasp. It was annoying and condescending as all hell, the machismo attitude - as _if_ she were incapable of taking care of herself.

She rolled her eyes at the thought and limped along, the cool air seeping into her cloak. A part of her, a very _small_ part of her, was deeply touched by his protectiveness. Despite her screaming feminist sensibilities, what it boiled down to what that he really and truly cared for her.

Severus Snape cared.

For her.

It was a startling revelation, true enough, but even more shocking still were her own deepening feelings for him. It was only a few months ago that she had profoundly believed that_ love,_ whatever the term truly meant, did not apply to her. Love was for Harry, who had cared for Ginny since their sixth year in school and would soon be married. It was for Remus and Tonks who could not be parted, even in death. Sighing deeply, Hermione pressed on in the darkness until there was something that she was suddenly absolutely certain of.

She was falling completely and irrevocably in love with Severus Snape.

A startling chill passed down the length of her spine at the terrifying yet...dare she imagine it - _wonderful _thought.

"Another warming charm, perhaps?" Severus asked quietly from behind her, interrupting her thoughts.

Hermione shook her head, trying to hide her startlement. "No. I'm fine."

A snort. "A common phrase for you."

Hermione shrugged as Severus easily caught up to her. "It's true."

There was a strange note of humor in his voice as he sneered, "Gryffindors."

Hermione huffed in annoyance. "And how many Gryffindors do you truly know?"

The snow crunched loudly beneath their boots. Hermione maneuvered to her right to avoid colliding with a thick evergreen while Severus went left around the same trunk.

"Besides you, only one."

Hermione's heart quickened. Instantly, she knew who he was referring to.

"And you _are_ strikingly similar."

The thought of being compared to Lily Potter was oddly surreal. Of course Hermione had seen the pictures. Of course she had heard the stories. Hermione knew that Lily was breathtakingly beautiful. She knew of her bravery, her kindness. She had been the sort of person that would always stick up for others.

The best sort of person.

Hermione's brow furrowed. "I...don't really see a comparison."

Severus' mouth quirked upward. "She, too, could never accept praise gracefully."

Stopping in her tracks Hermione looked up at him, and for a moment, was utterly lost. His black eyes were unreadable. Soft, as she had only ever seen when he looked at her, but still unreadable.

"Severus, I - "

But she stopped herself and suddenly whirled around, her eyes nervously scanning the topography around them.

"Hermione?" Severus asked anxiously, stepping toward her as she suddenly looked over his shoulder towards their left.

The feeling of the magical wards was unmistakable. Like walking through a thin layer of film that left a tangible residue, Hermione immediately sensed the magic around her.

Numbly, she turned to Severus. "It's here," she whispered. "The castle is here. Can you feel it?"

Severus shook his head, instantly drawing his wand until he suddenly caught the faint yet clearly visible magical energy of the wards. His eyes widened and then quickly narrowed. Taking Hermione gently by the shoulders, he asked, "Do you see the castle? Which direction? Where is it?"

Hermione looked nervously around her as her heart began to accelerate. "I...I'm not sure. I don't see anything." Stumbling forward with the beam of light shinning from her wand, she added, "It has to be close though. I felt the wards."

Severus nodded and then hurried back to the rest of their group. Clenching her wand with white knuckles, Hermione cautiously limped around a small group of trees, the mist of her breath appearing in more frequent intervals. And then, with the overwhelming weight of shear dread on her heart, she saw it.

Tall and foreboding, the castle rose up in a Gothic fashion at the center of several towering evergreens. The scene looked oddly like something out of a muggle mystery novel, dark and terribly grim. Hermione half-expected a wolf to howl in the distance, or the heavens to bust open in a merciless rainstorm.

_It's winter,_ Hermione chastised herself at the foolish fantasy. But the horror of being in such a close proximity to Lucius was so shockingly real that Hermione stumbled backward into the trees, hands sweaty and shaking.

"Hermione?" Severus stage-whispered, coming through the cluster of trees as he scanned the area for her. "Hermione!"

His wandlight soon found her, and his anxious face immediately turned furious. "What the _hell_ were you thinking! Do not _ever_ wander off like that again! Do you realize how foolish that was!"

"Sorry," Hermione amended quietly, moving swiftly to stand close to him.

His gaze suddenly shifted, perplexed, as she stood next to him. It was strangely out of character for her to seek physical shelter like that - let alone apologize for anything so quickly. "What is it?" he asked, his voice softer.

Hermione shook her head. "Nothing. I just...," she rubbed the back of her neck with her free hand and bit her lower lip. "I feel...dark. This place is _wrong_. Like being close to a Dementor - I...I can't focus on anything good."

Severus sighed as his expression softened, the harsh contours of his face relaxing and reached to pull her close, kissing the top of her dark head. He then grabbed her shoulders, carefully pushing her away just as quickly.

"Go past the wards and Disapperate back to Hogwarts. I'll come find you the moment this is over."

Hermione shook her head, tears suddenly welling in her eyes as she felt a strange sense of panic overcoming her. "No._ Please_. I can help."

Severus looked around anxiously as their little group began to move into position. "Hermione, I _beg_ you. Do this one thing for me and I will ask nothing from you ever again."

"But what if you're not around to ask?" Hermione cried. "What if something happens to you that I could have stopped? I...I couldn't bear it."

Bending his head, he pressed his forehead to Hermione's and whispered urgently. "I will not be able to do what is necessary if I am concerned for you. You have done _more_ than should ever be asked in the name of the Order. Please, Hermione. Give me...give me the hope of something to return to."

Hermione shook her head against him. "What if you don't come back?"

"I will."

"You don't know that."

"I will."

"Promise me," Hermione choked. "Promise me that you'll come back."

After a brief pause, he nodded against her. "I swear it."

Pulling at his neck until his lips were on hers for one fervent, heated moment, Hermione pulled away with glossy eyes that held his own.

"I love you, Severus Snape."

The look of astonishment that crossed Severus' face might have made Hermione smile had she not limped into the little cluster of trees and out of sight.

"And I you, Hermione Granger."

* * *

Severus sighed deeply and closed his eyes as he watched Hermione disappear and then heard the faint _pop_ as she Disapperated.

_She's safe, _he thought with an overwhelming sense of relief, like a literal weight lifting from his shoulders. _Whatever else happens, at least she's safe._

He lingered longer than was necessary at the spot where Hermione disappeared, feeling the first real flicker of hope at her departing words.

_I love you, Severus Snape._

A chill swept through him that had nothing to do with the cold. Was such a glorious thing even possible? He had loved Lily with almost a painful passion, an impossibly deep yearning that was always unfulfilled. But could it be that Hermione might love him in such a way? Did she truly long for him the way he did for her? Did she feel the ache he did when he was parted from her? The very ache he was beginning to feel at this exact moment? Her face had always been dreadfully easy to read - but _love_?

Did he dare hope?

"Severus?" An accented voice called from beyond a thicket of trees. "We're ready."

Still staring at the place he had last seen Hermione, he inclined his head slightly.

"Then let us end it."

* * *

Hermione landed by the Hogwarts grounds in a great heap, collapsing the moment her feet touched the ground. She gingerly pulled her knees to her chest and immediately started sobbing as though she had never cried before in her entire being.

_I left him._

_Am I truly that much of a coward? Is there anything Gryffindor left in me at all? What happened to my inherently stubborn nature? If something happens to Severus..._

"Hermione?"

Hermione's head snapped up with surprising force, tears staining her cheeks and she fumbled for her wand. But in the same instant she was startled by the voice, she instantly recognized it.

She sniffed loudly.

"Ron?"

A tall, somewhat gangly figure walked in her direction from the Hogwarts Express station. Stepping out into the moonlight from the shadow of a great tree, Hermione saw the unmistakable ginger hair and freckled face of Ron Weasley.

"Hermione," he said at once, stooping to help her to her feet. "What's wrong? What are you doing out here in the cold? Blimey, are you hurt?"

Hermione shook her head, wiping the tear tracks from her face. "No. It's nothing. I just Disapperated from..."

She paused, unsure if she should continue. The burden of concealing a known traitor within the Order now seemed obsolete. Desh was dead and his family was as concealed as they could be in an Auror safe house. Was there any real reason to hide the truth any longer? The entire Auror department knew - they were literally banging on Lucius' front door at that very moment.

It would all be on the front page of the _Daily Prophet_ by morning.

"There's, well, there's a mission going on right now," she sniffed. "The Aurors have found where Lucius Malfoy has been hiding out. They're staging a raid."

Ron's impossibly blue eyes widened. "But the Order - Merlin. Is Harry there?" He ran a hand through his ginger hair. "Why didn't anyone know about this?"

Sighing, Hermione replied reluctantly, "Yes...Harry is there. I'm sorry, Ron, but no one could know what was going on. I...I discovered evidence of a traitor within the Order several months ago. From the few of us that knew about it, I was sworn to secrecy. But the traitor was uncovered," her eyes flashed sadly. "So I suppose that secrecy is no longer needed."

Looking down at her, Ron asked, "_That's_ why McGonagall called off the Order meetings?" And then angrily, "Who was it?"

Hermione licked her lips. "Desh. Desh Blackwater."

Eyes widening again, Ron ran a hand again through his unruly hair.

"Bloody bastard."

"Don't," Hermione implored, rubbing her eyes tiredly. "It's not like that, Ron. It's not. He didn't have a choice."

"We all bloody well have a choice, Hermione," Ron retorted, his face turning red with anger. "Is that how you were captured? Was that it? You could have been _killed_! Anyone of us could have!"

"Please, Ron, stop," Hermione hurried, grabbing his forearm to calm him. "Lucius threatened his family. His wife is muggle-born. He told Desh horrible, _horrible_ things that he would do to her and their two little girls if he didn't comply."

Ron regarded her skeptically.

"Could you have honestly done any different if it was Ginny that was threatened? If it was Harry?"

Sighing, he rubbed the back of his neck. "Who all knew?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Harry, Minvera, and...Severus."

"Snape!"

"Honestly, Ron," Hermione cried, "You act as though he's still a Death Eater."

"Well maybe he is!"

Rolling her eyes, Hermione grumbled, "Now you're just acting stupid."

"Well," Ron huffed, "That's not much of a surprise. You always _did_ think I was stupid."

Whirling on him, Hermione thrust her index finger into his chest. "I never, _ever_ thought you were stupid, Ronald. Those were just your old insecurities placing that notion into your head. And _that _particular argument is neither here nor there. You know why Severus had to do what he did. You _saw_ the memories. How can you deny the truth?"

Ron stood impossibly still save for his chest, heaving in and out the crisp Scottish air. "Harry said that you had been working closely with him - with Snape," he continued more calmly. "Is that why you're defending him?"

"The memories speak for themselves, Ron. Hate him all you want; you can't deny what you saw."

Frowning, he continued, "But this is more than that, isn't it? This is more than Snape having been Dumbledore's man."

Straightening, Hermione folded her arms across her chest with narrowed eyes. "What are you getting at?"

"You tell me."

Wanting to do nothing more than yank out his hair to knock some sense into him, Hermione controlled herself enough to shrug coolly. "This isn't the time, Ron. Trust me."

That was all she said. She didn't elaborate.

"Don't be daft. Now's as good as time as any. We haven't spoken for what? Months? Who knows when we will again? Tell me, Hermione," he folded his arms, leaning forward. "Why the sudden interest in the Greasy Bat?"

"Watch your mouth, Ron," Hermione scolded angrily.

"No, Hermione. I won't. Stop defending him! He made our lives _hell_ all through school. Especially Harry's. Are you just going to turn around and forget that?"

"You _know_ why things had to be the way they were, Ron, so stop being so damned prejudice," Hermione snapped, her eyes flashing dangerously. "And Harry has come to grips with what happened during school. If anyone had a right to be angry with Severus; it would have been him. Let it go, already."

With a face that was nearly as red as his hair, Ron puffed, "You'll defend _him_ - you'll defend a man that has done horrible things to helpless people but you won't even _look_ at me. Why is that, Hermione? I always knew I wasn't good enough for you, but Merlin! I'd never go around and torture muggles and muggle-borns and who knows who else the git's done!"

It was the second time in so many months that Hermione slapped one of her closest friends - well purported close friends. Ron looked as shocked as Hermione felt, looking down at her hand as if it had done the action on its own accord. Ron's hand unconsciously went to his cheek, which was now turning a brilliant red in the shape of a small hand.

"Would you honestly want this, Ron?" Hermione choked as she gestured at the space between the two of them. "To fight all the time? That's all we ever did in school and it's _still_ all we do. Without Harry playing the role of peacemaker, how long do you truly think we would last?"

Ron paused, his anger subsiding. "Hermione, I - I don't know."

"I'm so sorry, Ron," Hermione continued more quietly, looking down at her hands. "I never meant to hurt you. Please believe that."

It took a moment, but he eventually nodded. "The slap seemed like you meant it. And that _did_ hurt." Ron winced with a small smile. "But I _do_ believe you, Hermione. If...if I"m being completely honest with myself," he looked down to his feet, "I don't think I ever quite felt it with you either - though I wanted to."

Hermione gave a sad smile. "Me too. Desperately."

Ron offered his lop-sided grin. "I think Harry wanted it more than either of us."

"Yes," Hermione agreed. "And still does."

"So," said Ron awkwardly after an expanse of silence that was far too long in his opinion, digging his boot in the snow, "You never said why you were out here in the freezing cold crying."

Hermione frowned and turned, staring unblinking into the dark distance. "I was just with Severus and Harry," she sighed. "They are both involved in the attack I was telling you about. I was supposed to be a part of it - "

"Are they daft?" Ron interrupted with a shout. "Barely out of the hospital a few weeks and Harry and Snape want to send you on an Auror mission?"

"Ron," Hermione countered, sounding slightly put-out, "I _had_ to go. I was the only one who had been inside the castle to detect the concealment wards. And besides, I'm _fine_ now. It's just a limp," she looked to her hands. "But I shouldn't have left...what if, what if something happens to them? Oh, Ron, I'd never be able to live with myself..."

"Calm down, Hermione," Ron implored. "I'm sure they're fine. How many Aurors are with them?"

"Well...," she hesitated. "...nearly the entire department. But that certainly doesn't mean - "

"See?" Ron pushed, sounding satisfied. "They'll be fine. A few Death Eaters are no match for the entire Auror Department."

Shaking her head, Hermione muttered, "I don't know, Ron. It's when you start to underestimate someone that things can get ugly. Lucius is...powerful. And it's his territory - who knows what dark magic is lurking about that the Aurors are unaware of."

"Tell me how to get there, then," Ron said, "And I'll go and help."

She had to fight from rolling her eyes on that one. "Ron," she said with as much patience as she had at the moment, "You can't Apparate there - you don't even know where to go."

"Oh, right," he blushed. "Well, then take me Side-Along and then you can Apparate back - "

"Do you honestly think," Hermione began as she drew her wand from her robes, "that I would take you there and then just Apparate away again?"

"Er..," Ron mumbled uncomfortably, "Well, you just said you promised Harry and the foul git that you'd leave - "

"Which I did_,_" Hermione agreed, taking Ron's arm and ignoring his description of Severus. "But I never said anything about _staying_." She smiled conspiratorially. "I won't be breaking any promises by returning with you."

"Bloody hell, Hermione," Ron cursed. "You're starting to sound like a Slytherin."

And for the first time in her life, Hermione took it as a compliment.

"Good. Now hold me tight."

"Hermione," Ron hesitated. "Do you really think this is a good idea? I hate to say it, but Snape was probably right in wanting you out of there, what with your knee and all. And Harry wouldn't ever tell you to do something unless he really thought - "

"Come on, Ron," Hermione huffed, grabbing his forearm. "I don't have the time for this."

"But Hermione..."

"Look, do you want to come or not?" she snapped, already positioning her wand for the spell.

Regarding her skeptically, Ron sighed deeply and took Hermione's arm as she turned on the spot and they whirled away into nothingness.

* * *

Chaos.

The moment Hermione and Ron got their bearings as they arrived at the entrance gate to the castle, Hermione instantly dropped to the forest floor, narrowly missing a crackling spell above her.

"Ron?" Hermione shouted, the wetness of the snow already seeping into her robes. "Ron! Are you okay?"

Ron's head appeared from around a thick tree trunk. "Yeah," he muttered, jogging quickly to pull her to her feet. "That was bloody close, though. Did you get hit?"

Hermione shook her head. "No. But Ron - "

Ron stopped her mid-sentence, pushing her roughly to the snow-covered ground once more as a brilliant beam of red shot directly towards them both. The spell hit the large evergreen behind them with such force, the impact was like a canon shot. The great tree doubled over as shards of bark flew in every direction and Ron leapt to his feet with his wand drawn.

"We need to take cover!" he shouted as Hermione drew her own wand.

But another spell - this one a frightening green - flew to Ron the moment he was on his feet.

"_Protego!_" Hermione shouted from her prone position in the snow. The two spells collided with such force, the blast of the collision created a wind gust that blew Ron's hair wildly around him.

"Come on, Hermione," Ron heaved as he pulled Hermione to her feet. "We're right in the crossfire! We need to get out of here!"

Hermione scrambled to her feet, immediately seeing the silhouette of a figure to her right, wand pointing in their direction.

"_Stupefy!_" she commanded, and the figure fell abruptly to the ground, even as another spell zoomed from behind them, only just missing Hermione's head.

"Stay back! Get to that tree!" Ron shouted as he thrust Hermione in front of him. Hermione stumbled forward, ducking behind a tree branch as she flattened herself to the shelter of the evergreen's trunk.

"Yeah, this was a bright idea!" Ron yelled as he, too, ran to hide behind a tree of his own.

"Then, leave!" Hermione cried, taking a deep breath before she turned to peek around the trunk. "I'm not going until I find Severus and Harry!"

"Merlin, Hermione," Ron shouted over another blast into a nearby tree. "Of course I'm not leaving you here!"

"Then shut up and start fighting!"

For one small moment, there was silence in the forest, and then a series of crashes and explosions, this time more distant. After a moment, there was another loud explosion, this time from somewhere near. Hermione's eyes met Ron's gravely from behind their little shelters.

"Can you see anyone?" she shouted.

Ron peered around the trunk, scanning the topography around him. Without turning, he shook his head. "I can't see a thing. I think the battle's moving away from here, though."

Hermione removed herself from the tree, jogging over to where Ron crouched. "Let's go, then," she said steadily. "Come on."

"Hermione, maybe you should Apparate - "

"Give it up, Ron," Hermione said sternly. "Come _on_," she added urgently, taking his hand in hers as they scrambled from tree to tree.

For the first time, ever abruptly, Hermione heard shouting - men's voices yelling incomprehensibly at one another. "We're getting close," Hermione whispered, gripping her wand with a sweaty hand as they paused briefly behind a large boulder.

And then without warning, from behind them, two voices shouted spells in succession. With no time to block the curses, Hermione swore as she launched herself to the right and the spells succinctly smashed into the boulder where she and Ron had been not a second before. The boulder burst inward as large pieces of rock flew dangerously in the air, and then there was a wave of chaos as curses and spells exploded, lighting the night sky like a muggle firework display.

Through the dust of the demolished boulder, two figures walked toward her - _where was Ron? - _hooded and intimidating. The one on the left reached with too hairy hands and discolored, long nails to remove his hood. As Hermione sat frozen, unable to look away, Fenrir Greyback revealed himself with a row of yellow teeth and wild eyes.

Hermione took a deep breath, to yell a curse or distract him in some small way.

"Get the hell away from her," Ron's firm voice came from behind her.

But the monster advanced on her, no thought to his wand or anything around him, as he strode forward with purpose and a sick gleam in his eye.

"Why, pretty mudblood. Its been _too_ long."

But Ron had already shouted a curse, and oddly distracted, the spell slammed into Greyback's chest, knocking him backwards. Hermione's hands were trembling as she struggled to her feet, her mouth dry and her breathing ragged as she sent a powerful stunner at Greyback's companion. The figure dodged the curse, returning a purple one just as quickly as a crack shot through the night air, narrowly missing the attacker. Hermione jumped and turned to look wildly around for the source of the sound. Whatever curse had been intended for the figure had missed, and now the attacker shouted spells at herself and Ron with an urgent rapidity, maneuvering his wand in wild, frantic movements.

Wordlessly Hermione blocked spell after spell, the strain of it creating little droplets of sweat on her brow, despite the snow she lay in, as she scooted as far back from her attacker as she could. Ron was suddenly hit by something, and lay motionless on the ground beside her. With one swift wand motion, Hermione's wand flew from her hand and sailed easily into her attacker's and he advanced on her quickly.

_Severus, I'm so sorry. I tried, I wanted to come to save you and Harry. I'm so sorry._

_Please. Let it be quick._

And then a dark figure came out of nowhere and stood rigidly between Hermione and the unknown man. The forest floor seemed to shake with the figure's fury.

With a deft flick of an ebony wand, Severus Snape effortlessly stunned the attacker and collected the wand in the same breath.

Turning to look down at Hermione, Severus scowled as he pulled her to her feet.

"I _heard_ you Disapperate."

It wasn't a question.

"Yes...,"

"Of all the foolish, dim-witted, moronic things to do!" Severus roared, his black eyes flashing dangerously. Taking a deep breath, he asked with deliberate effort, "So am I to understand that I did not specify that you were to _remain_ at Hogwarts, and subsequently that is why you are standing here before me?"

Hermione offered a small smile. "Something like that."

The line of his mouth didn't move. "You should have been sorted into Slytherin."

Hermione smiled grimly. "That's what Ron said. Oh! Ron!" Hermione's eyes darted around them until she saw Ron's prone form. She scrambled towards him, picking her wand out of the muddy snow.

"_Enneverate._"

Ron's eyes fluttered for a moment before the blue of his irises focused on Hermione's face.

"Hermione!" He abruptly sat erect. "You okay?"

"Fine," she dismissed. "Just a stunner, then?"

Brushing off his robes, Ron nodded. "Yeah, I think so."

Hermione felt Severus come up behind her. "Leave. Now."

Hermione turned to him. "But I can help - "

"They way you helped by nearly getting yourself and Weasley killed?"

Hermione stared at him, taken aback by the venom in his voice.

"Leave. There is no safe point. No common ground. Both sides are mixed together - an Auror could kill you just as easily as a Death Eater without knowing it was you."

"But Severus - "

"You could be killed by friendly fire!" he raged, grabbing her upper arms to shake some sense into her. "Not to mention fall into the hands of a Death Eater!"

"Come on, Hermione," Ron implored from behind Severus. "I'm no Auror and you're not completely recovered. We'll do more damage than help."

"Ron," Hermione started, though she was still looking at Severus' thunderous eyes. "We can still - "

The curse hit Severus from behind. There was no warning - no whisper of the spell. There was no chance to mutter a sound of surprise, no time to widen his eyes, to turn or retaliate. He dropped to the snow like a ton of bricks. Hermione, heart pounding in her chest with a speed approaching hysteria, whirled around to find herself face to face with the distorted image of Fenrir Greyback.

* * *

_So, is this a good time to beg forgiveness? I always promised myself that I would never__, EVER be one of those writers that left a fic for months. I hate it. Probably one of my biggest pet peeves ever. And now, here I am. How many "I's" in hypocracy? I_ _DO feel awful, though. As I've mentioned before, the other story that has wandered into my head refuses to be silenced. It's taken everything that I have to not stop and start writing that one. Sigh. I apologize for the delay - end of summer vacations, work, and life all got thrown into the mix. I appreciate everyone's wonderful reviews and support. Don't hate me too badly. :)  
_


	19. Chapter 19

_"And at the end it's not years in your life that count. It's the life in your years."_

- Abraham Lincoln

* * *

**Chapter 19: The Close**

* * *

There are moments, certain moments in life where time stands still. And then there are moments when it goes entirely too fast.

Hermione was stuck between deciding which of the two this particular moment fell into.

In a sense, it was almost agonizingly slow - watching Severus slump to the ground in a heap of robes, and then turning to see Greyback glaring maliciously down at her. And every memory, every touch and almost touch of Severus flashed through her visual recall like a muggle motion picture. The repressed emotion of his burning black eyes, the gentleness of his hands, the capacity of his tender heart; all of it played through her mind, taunting her.

And then everything was happening too quickly. The grip of Hermione's wand tightened as she raised her arm to cast a spell, even as Ron made to jump forward, while Greyback's stained fingernails came out of nowhere to clench around her throat. Within a matter of seconds, Severus had fallen to the ground, Greyback had loosed Hermione's wand, and Ron stood numbly, wide-eyed; afraid to move.

"Move and she dies," Greyback breathed, his sour breath assaulting Hermione's senses.

Ron's eyes darted back and forth between Hermione's frightened face and Greyback's near non-human one. Not knowing what else to do, he raised his hands in defeat, his wand pointing uselessly skyward.

Greyback nodded toward the wand. "Drop it."

Again, Ron's eyes sought Hermione's, though she no longer was looking at him. Her gaze was cast downward to where Severus lay, unmoving.

"What did you do to him?" Hermione demanded, struggling as Greyback's nails dented into the flesh of her neck, even as Ron bent to place his wand on the ground. "What was it?" she struggled against him. "Tell me, damn it!"

Applying pressure to Hermione's throat, Greyback bent and whispered sickeningly, "Tell him to drop his wand," he raised his foot to Severus' neck and rested it a few precarious inches above it, "or else I will crush Snape's windpipe before you can blink."

Hermione swallowed as best she could with Greyback's grip tightening around her throat. She looked up at her friend and felt lost. "P-put it down, Ron," she managed.

He looked down at her, eyes flashing, but still not relinquishing his wand. In the deep pit of his throat, he knew what was coming.

"Drop it," Hermione said, this time with more force.

"I...," he licked his lips. "Hermione, I - "

"Drop it!" Hermione cried, her face desperate.

He stared at her with surprise, and then with a dawning guilt, unwillingly bent the rest of the way downward and set his wand gently in the muddy snow. He looked wild, defeated, and torn. Hermione tried to show her gratitude to him with a grim smile, but it came out all wrong.

Greyback sneered, "Very good, blood-traitor. Now turn around; arms on the back of your head."

Ron's eyes found Hermione again, and he hesitated.

"Do it now, or I'll _Crucio_ her!" he snarled, his patience wearing.

With one last look at Hermione, Ron turned, lacing his fingers together as they rested on the back of his head, the sleeves of his robe rolling back to his elbows.

Maneuvering his wand with one hand and pointing it in the direction of Ron, Greyback gripped Hermione painfully with his free arm and pulled her closer to his filthy body.

"_Avada K -_ "

"No!" Hermione screamed, throwing all of her weight against him. At the same moment, a deafening explosion rocked the forest not twenty meters from where they stood, knocking Hermione and Greyback to the ground at an awkward angle. Ron, who was not far from them, stumbled and fell to his knees. Hermione's head hit the forest floor with a jarring force that rattled her teeth. Slightly disorientated, another blast sounded close by and lit up the night sky as Hermione scrambled as far away from Greyback as she could, her eyes frantically scanning the muddy snow for her wand.

Crawling on her elbows and knees, wincing each time her right knee made contact with the earth, Hermione let loose a small yelp as someone grabbed her ankle from behind, and she fell face first on the ground. Greyback pulled and tugged at her leg as Hermione's hands dug into the wet earth, trying to fervently root herself in place.

"Let go of me!"

Greyback grunted in response, pulling with all of his strength, having evidently lost his wand in his stumble to the ground. And suddenly, Ron was there _above_ her, wand trained down at Greyback with a look of such contempt on his face, Hermione flinched. His wand arm was rigid and shaking with fury.

"Get your filthy hands off her!" Ron howled. "Where I can _see_ them!"

Greyback looked up at Ron with malice, and then his yellow eyes moved grossly over Hermione's body before he quickly lowered his mouth to her calf, his teeth poised and ready.

"_Stuepfy!_" Ron shouted, the red blast from his wand knocking Greyback several meters back. He collided into a tree trunk with a sickening thud and did not get back up.

Immediately, Ron bent to help Hermione to her feet. "Did he bite you?" he asked frantically, whirling her around to look at the backside of her leg. "Did he get you, Hermione?"

Hermione shook her head quickly, brushing off her robes as she looked back to where Greyback lay, unmoving. "No. No, I don't think so."

And then she turned, her eyes instantly searching for Severus in the darkness. Only three paces from her, he lay as still as stone. An unnerving knot tightened itself in Hermione's stomach and somewhere in the distance there was another explosion, and then men shouting loudly at one another. Dropping to her knees at Severus' side, Hermione's shaking fingers found his neck to check for a pulse. After a brief moment of panic, she found one. With one finger, she made a part in Severus' hair over his face. She brushed back one side, and then the other.

"Ron?"

But he was already crouching beside her, waving his wand to revive Severus. It took a moment, but Severus' dark eyes eventually fluttered open and he took in a deep breath.

Hermione's heart leapt.

"Severus?" she asked anxiously. "Can you hear me?"

Severus swallowed thickly, his eyes meeting hers as the disorientation ebbed. "Hermione," he reached his hand up to touch her face, before suddenly realizing where he was and threw himself into a sitting position, scanning their surroundings as the line of his mouth thinned and his adam's apple worked.

"My wand," he stated, shaking his head to clear it. "Did you see where it fell?"

Ron, who had been watching their entire exchange under narrowed eyes, stood and flourished his wand. "_Accio Professor Snape's wand! Accio Hermione Granger's wand!_"

Not a moment later, two muddied wands flew into his waiting hand, and he quickly handed them to their rightful owners.

"What was that?" Hermione asked gravely, scanning Severus for any visible signs of injury. "What did he hit you with?"

Severus shook his head, quickly getting to his feet as both he and Ron pulled Hermione up. "I do not know," he said dismissively, his own eyes searching Hermione to see if she had taken any damage. "But you must leave while you still can."

"Severus - "

Another spell exploded nearby, causing all three to duck. Severus pulled Hermione close to his side, his left hand hovering over her head as debris from shattered tree trunks flew in the air like a relentless rainstorm.

"Weasley," Severus snapped, once they had taken shelter behind a large evergreen. "Take her and get out of here."

"I'm not leaving you again," Hermione said firmly, brushing a errant strand of hair from her face and leaving a smudge of dirt in its place. "I don't care if you hate me for it for the rest of your life."

Ron hesitated for a moment. Then he took a deep breath and looked down at her, "Hermione, maybe it would be better if - "

But Hermione had already cut him off. "Save it, Ron. I'm not going anywhere." And then she turned to Severus, "Where is Harry? And has anyone even _seen_ Lucius yet?"

Severus regarded her warily, considering her. "I was separated from Potter when we were both by the entrance gate," he offered softly. "And I have yet to see Lucius."

A series of crackling spells and subsequent explosions rang out through the night, a tree they had only just passed shook with the impact of it. And then closer, there was a collision of two spells that cracked like thunder. Covering her ears, Hermione made to peek around the tree but Severus pushed her backward forcefully.

"Don't move."

Severus turned to glance around the tree, his back flat against the trunk, his wand poised. Turning the other direction, Hermione maneuvered over Ron to peek around the opposite side and to her startlement, saw brilliant streams of light colliding between Rodolphus LeStrange and Draco Malfoy.

Without taking a breath, Hermione brandished her wand and shouted, "_Petrificus Totalus!_" and Rodolphus, unaware of his unseen attacker, froze on the spot as Draco immediately disarmed him.

Draco stooped to pick up the lost wand, broke it on his thigh, and then turned to see Hermione breaking free of Ron's grasp as she rushed out to meet him.

"Granger?" he asked, incredulous. "What are you doing here?"

Breathing heavily, she shrugged, "You saved my life, I saved yours."

Draco scoffed, "I would hardly call what you did _saving _- "

"Malfoy?" Ron asked incredulously. "You bloody bastard! Like hell you saved Hermione!"

"Oh really, Weasley?" Draco sneered, "Why don't you check with the resident know-it-all and see what _she_ has to say about it."

"Draco," Severus said darkly as he approached, his eyes flashing, "This is neither the time nor the place for petty squabbles. Have you seen Potter?"

Draco nodded, "Yeah. He was dueling with Yaxley last I saw him."

"Was he alright?" Ron chimed in, though he still had his wand trained on Draco.

Another nod. "_Saint_ Potter always seems to take care of himself."

Hermione's brow knitted together, "But the Death Eaters," she breathed. "Do they know about you?"

Draco smirked. "No. Which makes it rather convenient when they think I'm coming to back them up," he turned to Severus. "They're quite surprised when they get a stunner in their backs."

"Wait," Ron said. "What in the _hell_ is going on here? Do the Death Eaters know _what_ about you?"

"Later, Ron," Hermione said. "Draco's on our side. Just leave it."

Ron frowned, still refusing to lower his wand.

Severus nodded grimly before turning back to Draco, "Where is your father?"

Draco frowned. "I don't know. I haven't seen him since all hell broke loose."

"Would he have Disapperated?" Hermione asked, cupping her hands and blowing warmth into them.

Draco shrugged. "I wouldn't put it past him."

Suddenly, the air exploded around them as an attack of colorful spells launched through the night air and crashed into a cluster of nearby trees. Severus dropped to the forest floor, pulling Hermione down with him, as Draco and Ron each ducked and flung themselves behind the shelter of two separate evergreens. There was shouting again, completely incoherent, though strangely, Hermione thought she could make out Buckley's voice.

"I need to get back to the castle," Draco shouted to Severus, who was still lying prone in the mud with Hermione beside him. "If I can break the concealment wards, this mess will be over. No Death Eater would be able to use this place for refuge again. As it stands now, the Aurors have uncovered the majority of the old hide-outs - they'll have no where else to go."

Severus nodded. "I will go with you." And then he craned his neck to the other direction. "Mr. Weasley?"

Ron poked his head out from behind a thick trunk.

"Take Miss Granger and Disapperate to Hogwarts."

"No," Hermione said firmly, slowly crawling to her feet. "Ron and I can cover you both. The Death Eaters won't be expecting us."

"Well, they certainly won't be expecting me," Draco said with a smug smile, helping Hermione and Severus over to where he hid. Ron, who was a few trees away from them, nodded.

"If we cover you, you won't have to waste your time fighting off everyone while you try to get in there."

There was another series of crashes in the distance. Hermione's eyes sought and found Severus'. His cloak was ripped, his hair caked with mud, but irrationally, despite their current predicament, she thought that she had never seen a more wonderful image in all of her life.

"Ron and I will make sure you and Draco make it to the castle."

Severus frowned, his black eyes glinting. "Hermione, I - "

But another explosion rocked the tree the three of them were hiding behind, launching Hermione through the air and she fell hard on her back. Severus and Draco hit the ground and another tree equally as hard. The shock of the impact flashed through Hermione's skull violently. Dimly, through her ringing ears, she heard Ron raging a duel somewhere near her, shouting curses and shields as another series of cracks and explosions sounded somewhere nearby.

_My wand_.

Testing her fingers, Hermione moved her hand over the snow next to her, trying to focus on the feel of her smooth vinewood wand. And then someone was suddenly dragging her to her feet, and they were moving. They stopped just as quickly and then strangely, like a far away voice, Hermione heard Severus calling to her.

"Hermione!"

His voice sounded urgent, and then he was shaking her, his breath hot on her face. "Hermione! You _must_ wake. Can you hear me?"

She blinked and swallowed, trying to get her bearings.

"Severus?"

And then her head cleared, and she sat erect, nearly bumping into Severus' face.

"Severus! Are you alright?"

He looked completely baffled, his eyes combing over her. "I might ask you the same thing. Are you injured?"

Hermione took a moment, trying to ascertain any physical damage on her body. Aside from the slight ringing in her ears and the mild dizziness she felt if she moved her head too quickly, everything appeared to be in working order.

"I don't think so," she said, massaging her temples.

Severus nodded but regarded her skeptically. "Good. Now Apparate to Hogwarts," he said, helping her to her feet and handing over her wand. "That's an order."

Hermione raised her brow. "An order? I must have hit my head harder than I thought," she nearly laughed. "And just what gives you the authority or the _audacity_ to tell me what to do?"

Severus scowled. "Hermione, this is not the time for foolish Gryffindor heroics. As your superior in the Order, not to mention - "

But another explosion rocked a nearby tree, and suddenly Draco was shouting at them from somewhere beyond an overgrown path.

"Professor! Granger! We need to move. _Now!_"

Before Severus could argue any further, Hermione took off, jogging gingerly to where Draco stood. As she came around a hilly bend and the sky in the east lighted ever so slightly, she saw Ron in full combat with a masked Death Eater. Immediately, she poised her wand in the direction of Ron's attacker, but from up ahead, Draco had silently cast a stunner at the Death Eater, immobilizing him on the spot.

Catching her breath as she squatted down next to Draco, Hermione said with effort, "Nicely done."

Ron, who was jogging over with a scowl on his face, said, "I had it all taken care of, _ferret_. I didn't need _you_ to interfere."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Please, Weasley. Don't flatter yourself by thinking that your so-called "skills" with the Dark Arts - "

"Enough," Snape roared, grabbing Hermione by the upper arm and pulling her upright. "Draco, I believe you and I should be making our way to the castle entrance. Mr. Weasley? You will accompany Miss Granger and - "

"And cover you both so you can get to the castle," Ron interrupted. At Severus' murderous gaze, he added, "I won't let anything happen to Hermione. I'll be watching her back the entire time. I'll protect her."

Hermione rolled her eyes and she sighed in annoyance, "Merlin, why does everyone around here think I need protecting?" She brandished her wand and clutched it tightly with a determined gaze. "Mark my words, _I'll_ be protecting the lot of _you_ before this is done."

Draco was looking at Hermione with something of admiration on his countenance before Hermione strode ahead of them confidently, leaving he, Severus, and Ron to glance quickly at one another before rushing to catch her up. Again, shouts and spells could be heard, crackling around them with energy and light.

"You should take the left flank, Granger," Draco said as he walked quickly along side her, evidently ignoring Severus' wishes to have her return to Hogwarts. "Have Weasley take the right. Professor Snape and I will create a diversion and go straight up the pathway in the middle."

Ron raised a thick, ginger brow. "A diversion?"

Draco nodded but it was Severus who spoke. "The Death Eaters are not yet privy to Draco's allegiance. If we stage a duel, we stand a much greater chance of getting to the castle entrance than if we both charged in head-first in true, idiotic Gryffindor fashion."

Hermione suppressed a small smile.

They continued cautiously along, the tension and apprehension of what they were about to undertake sitting heavy in Hermione's stomach, a tight knot that seemed to constrict with each frantic heartbeat. And suddenly, they were in the middle of it. Spells flew in every direction, explosions sounded and shook the earth, causing Hermione to stumble with the impact of it. And all around her were figures - men, women, Death Eaters, Aurors, and Hermione could not tell one from the other.

"Go!" Ron shouted, gripping a tree branch for support as another blast shook the ground.

Severus and Draco took off without another word or backwards glance. Immediately, they both cast stunners at one another, though both spells were slow and deliberate. Hermione thought anyone who was truly observing the pair through the chaos would have seen the obviousness of their gestures, the precise enunciation of their words, the over-reactions of their movements; but no one, save herself, was watching with that effort or intent, and they pressed forward in their pseudo-duel at an impressive pace.

So quickly, in fact, that Hermione had to nearly sprint to keep them in her sights. Ignoring the sharp jab of her right knee, she veered left, ducking under a low branch as a flash of red light slammed into the forest floor where she had only just stood. The moment she righted herself, however, she collided hard into a masked figure. For a moment, neither moved. And then everything broke into a chaos of sounds.

The Death Eater raised his wand, "_Stuepfy!_"

"_Protego!_"

The duel continued on at a laborious pace. Neither figure wavered as the trees around them shook with the impact of the deflected spells that created spiderweb shaped cracks in the great trunks that threatened to give way. Hermione's brow was wet with the exertion after only a few moments, and then the tree closest to her thundered and shuttered, and then finally snapped with a deafening _crack_ as the great trunk groaned and fell forward.

Hermione turned to cast a levitating charm on the tree that would, in a moment, crush them both; but the Death Eater saw her distraction and slashed his wand violently through the air.

"_Avada Kedavra!_"

"No!" Hermione shouted, throwing herself violently to the side as she narrowly missed the violent green spell. But the Death Eater, in his eagerness to cast the killing curse, jumped too late to avoid the falling tree, and he stood frozen, unable to look away as the heavy trunk fell forward and crushed him instantly. Hermione collided to the earth roughly, a dazzling blow shook through her skull as her head hit a sharp rock at an odd angle. A moment later, the pain registered, and her eyes rolled back in her head, and she lay still.

* * *

Severus cursed to himself as he and Draco made their way to the castle entrance gate. Their duel, though a ruse, still left him feeling drained. That, and the exertion of running, and _more_ importantly, scanning the area for any real threats to either of them, was enough to make him want to collapse. A few spells had come dangerously close, but unseen shields had stayed them and protected both he and Draco.

Severus noticed, however, as he noticed everything, that the shields were now only coming from one side of the fury. What that meant, he did not know, nor could he dwell on. His focus had to rest solely on getting himself and Draco to the castle to breach the wards. Hopefully, Severus' gut tightened, that would be enough to confuse the Death Eaters - or send them fleeing. At this point, he didn't care what followed, so long as it meant he could find Hermione and get her the hell out of there.

Potter and the damnable glory-seeking Aurors could then track down the Death Eaters that went missing until every last cell in Azkaban was full for all he cared. They had lingered for far too long. The element of surprise was now lost, and the Death Eaters, fighting on their own turf, would likely take the advantage.

Suddenly, as Severus parried an obvious jinx from Draco, wonderfully, _blessedly_, from up ahead, Severus could see the entrance gate.

_Almost there_.

Draco, having evidently come to the same conclusion, hesitated, and then made for an all-out sprint to the gate, leaving Severus cursing behind him.

"Damn it, Draco!" Severus swore. "Mind your surroundings!"

Clutching his wand, Severus ran for it, around the cursed topography, the wavering trees; he ducked and dodged curses that could have been friendly or enemy fire, trying not to imagine if Hermione had befallen any injury since he had last seen her, until he stopped short before the iron bars.

"_Alohamora!_" Draco shouted, having stopped only a moment before Severus. And the great bars groaned as they bent inward on themselves, leaving a narrow space for one man to enter. Severus' sweaty fingers fumbled his wand as he ran after Draco, who was already waving his own wand to bring down the enchantments. Gasping and hiccuping for breath, Severus whirled around, his back to Draco, standing guard. Since Draco was the only one who could actually bring down the wards, Severus waited, his form rigid. Dawn was fast approaching, and any Death Eater that could easily see them would guess what they were doing.

Severus gritted his teeth.

_Let them come._

But suddenly there was an earth shattering explosion that knocked him hard off his feet.

Choking through the dust of the iron gate that had partially imploded, Severus heard Draco curse behind him.

"What the hell was that?"

"The wards," Severus coughed, slowly getting to his feet. "You instigated the initial breach, and now, the rest should follow."

Draco's pale brow arched. "That was it? The counter-spell is all that was needed?"

"Did you expect it to be more difficult?" Severus asked, wiping his brow.

Draco shrugged helplessly. "Well, yeah."

"Occasionally, the easiest course of action is the most prudent one, as was our case here. Since the wards were designed to admit you, your reciting the counter-spell was all that was needed," Severus said, wincing as he massaged his left upper arm. "Now, come. Let us finish this."

Draco nodded and jogged over to what was left of the iron gate, even as explosions resonated around the perimeter of the castle, signifying the fall of the wards. Severus followed just as quickly, his eyes scanning the chaotic scene before him. The Death Eaters, he observed, had been momentarily distracted by the sound of the breached wards. Some were shouting at one another, others - Disapperating. And there were some whom appeared to have been so disorientated in the commotion that the Aurors had disarmed them easily, and now they knelt in the mud, defeated hands resting on the backs of their heads.

"Oi! Malfoy! Snape!" Ron shouted as he ran towards them, his face red from exertion. "Is that it, then? The wards are down?"

"Yes, Weasley," Draco drawled. "The wards are down. Now why don't you bugger - "

But the curse came without preamble or warning. Ron felt the heat of the spell before he saw the green. He turned quickly, wand drawn to cast a shield charm on an unshieldable curse. The flash of green flew towards him until he was suddenly knocked forcefully to the ground, and he heard, sickeningly, the curse collide with something behind him, and then the muffled _thud_ of an object hitting the ground.

"No!" Severus roared above him, and before he could cast a spell in retaliation, Ron whirled around to see Lucius Malfoy, wand drawn, smiling grossly at the dead body of his son. Not a moment later, the faint _pop_ of Disapperation echoed through the small clearing, and Lucius was gone.

Ron gasped in disbelief as he clutched his wand, heart pounding, and turned to see his former professor kneeling in the mud next to a stiff, wide-eyed, and unmoving Draco Malfoy.

"M-Malfoy?" Ron breathed in disbelief, crawling through the snowy mud to where he lay.

Severus pulled Draco onto his lap with a great effort, the firm line of his mouth quivering as he closed his eyes and whispered, "No, Draco. _No_."

Ron suddenly found his eyes watering, unbidden. "Is...is he d-dead?"

"What do you think, Weasley? Are you blind as well as stupid?" Severus snapped, before swallowing and closing his eyes in an attempt to regain his composure. Then, reverently, methodically, he reached with long, nimble fingers to close Draco Malfoy's eyes for the last time.

"He...," Ron stammered, shaking his head, half-believing, "he...saved my life."

Severus said nothing, but muttered a silent prayer for the soul of his former student, a man who had once been like a son to him.

"Rest now," Severus whispered, closing his eyes. "Rest, Draco."

The sound of approaching footfalls made Ron grip his wand tightly and he rose to his feet, his face set and murderous. But it was Harry Potter who came through the cluster of trees, a large gash on his pale face, and hair even more disheveled than it normally was, if it were at all possible. His green eyes found Ron with surprise.

"Ron?" Harry asked, rushing over to greet him.

Ron nodded, a lump caught in his throat.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he asked incredulously. And then his eyes found Severus and Draco.

"What happened?" Harry demanded, his eyes searching over Draco's still body. "Who did this?"

When no one answered, Harry asked again, this time more forcefully. "Who killed Malfoy?"

"L-Lucius. Lucius Malfoy," Ron supplied miserably.

Staring numbly ahead, Ron muttered, "He pushed me. To the ground. But Malfoy hated me...I don't understand it...he...he took the curse for me," he closed his eyes and felt hot tears threatening to leak out. "He took the curse for _me_," he whispered.

Looking to Severus for confirmation, the older man nodded solemnly and then licked his lips, his voice hoarse. "Take his body back to the Ministry, Potter."

But Harry continued to stare at Draco's unmoving form, dumbfounded, and Severus snapped loudly, "Do it, Potter!"

"Alright," Harry replied quickly, holding up his hands. "Alright. But where are you going? The Aurors have all the Death Eaters in custody that didn't Apparate. And as for the others," he shrugged, though his green eyes burned with anger. "Well, we'll just have to track them down, Lucius included."

Severus stood, carefully placing Draco's body on the cold ground. "Have you seen Hermione?"

"Hermione?" Harry ejaculated. "You said she left for Hogwarts!"

Severus nodded, tearing his gaze from Draco's pale face at last. "Yes, she did. But in true Gryffindor fashion, saw it was necessary to return to a dangerous battle. Now, answer me, Potter. Have you seen her since we last parted?"

Harry shook his head, worriedly. "No."

"Mr. Weasley?" Severus asked.

But Ron was in another world, his blue eyes still locked on Draco's lifeless body.

"Weasley!" Severus snapped. "Have you seen Hermione?"

Ron shook his head numbly. "No." And then he turned to look Severus in the face. "No, I haven't seen her."

Severus cursed and drew his wand. "Was it not you, Weasley, that said you would _make sure nothing happened to her_? That you would _protect her_? Damn it all, Weasley!" As Ron shirked away, Severus turned to Harry. "Take Draco's body to the Ministry. I trust you with this Potter. Explain the facts you know about young Draco's true allegiance. The truth, Potter. I will _not_ have his name tainted."

Harry nodded in understanding. "Of course, sir. I'll...I'll make sure everyone knows the truth."

And then Severus stood, and with a quiet fear and dawning horror racking his heart, ran for where he had last seen Hermione.

* * *

Hermione slowly opened her eyes, and then wished she hadn't.

Everything was blurry and spinning; nothing was working right. And when she did open her eyes for a moment longer than she would have liked, everything kept blacking in and out. She tried twice to get to her knees, but gravity pulled her in the wrong direction, and she collapsed and hit the earth at a rough angle. Moaning quietly, she tried again, and strained to listen over the ringing in her ears for the tell-tell signs of anyone approaching.

She no longer heard the blasts and explosions that had been so prevalent before she had fallen and hit her head. But there, in the distance, she heard the crackling energy of magical wards being breached.

_So the wards are down_, she thought distantly. _Severus and Draco must have made it_. And despite everything, she smiled. Eventually, she managed to get herself into a sitting position, albeit and awkward one, and she leaned heavily against a tree trunk for support.

_Slow. That's the key. Slow and steady._

She rested against the trunk for a few moments, catching her breath, and blinking through the hazy vision that wouldn't quite subside. She swallowed slowly, but somehow there was blood in her mouth, and she nearly vomited. Leaning her head back against the rough bark, Hermione sincerely tried to focus on any point around her, and finally, sluggishly, it happened.

The first thing her eyes focused on was her wand, laying only a few feet away.

_Thank Merlin it didn't break_.

And then, slowly, other things came into focus around her. Another tree, small rocks, a weed coming out of the snow. As she gained coherence, her head cleared, though there was still a throbbing that would not subside. She tried her luck and carefully pulled herself to her feet, using a strong branch for support. The moment she was standing fully erect though, her head began swimming again, and she swayed against the tree, clutching the branch to keep from toppling over. She remained like that for several moments, breathing heavily, until she was certain she could walk the few paces ahead and grab her wand without falling.

The steps were tentative, but her head was clearing, and Hermione bent carefully to gather her wand, cautious to not move her head too much. Righting herself again, she wiped her nose with her sleeve, took a deep breath, and slowly sauntered forward, in search for Severus, Ron, Harry, and Draco.

It felt as though she had been walking for hours, though it couldn't have been more than a few minutes. From up ahead, Hermione heard voices conversing. Griping her wand tightly, she hid behind a small tree and listened.

"...will take him to Azkaban..."

"...Buckley wants all the Aurors to report to him immediately..."

"...I saw Keetch fall. Have you seen Kelic?"

Hermione ducked out from the tree, carefully making her way to two Aurors she did not know. The moment they spotted her, their faces registered their surprise.

"Hermione Granger?" A stocky little Auror asked. Evidently they, like everyone else in the wizarding world, knew who _she _was. "I wasn't aware you were here! But of course we're quite pleased to see that - "

"Forgive me," Hermione said shakily, as she interrupted him. "But have either of you seen Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Severus Snape or Dr - " She paused, stopping herself, realizing these men did not know of Draco's allegiance.

"Sorry, any of those men? I need to find them immediately."

The taller, paler Auror spoke this time. "I last saw Harry Potter awhile ago near the entrance gate to the castle. I was unaware that Ron Weasley was here," he said. "And as for Severus Snape...I have not seen him."

Hermione swallowed and nodded. "Thank you."

As she made to move past them, the stocky man spoke once more. "Watch yourself, Auror Granger. Though the wards have been breached, there could still be Death Eaters lurking about that have not yet been rounded up or have not Disapperated."

"Yes, of course."

Hermione stumbled forward aimlessly, stretching her legs out as she tried not to think of what fate could have befallen her friends or Severus. She passed numerous trees, her left hand traveling over their rough bark as her right arm remained forward, poised and ready. Everything seemed monotonous. The trees all blurred together, though whether it was due to her still throbbing head, she wasn't sure.

And then, from up ahead, she heard someone running in her direction. The footsteps were fast, deliberate, and purposeful. Dimming the light on her wand, Hermione threw herself behind a tree, the faint light of dawn penetrating through the thick forest at last. Taking a deep breath and willing her frantic heart to calm, Hermione peered around the trunk.

And there was Severus, running wildly through the forest with his wand drawn. She shook her head and opened her eyes again. He was still there, but he had passed her and would soon be out of sight. Hermione's heart leapt. There he was, alive and breathing - running. More wonderful than the sunrise. More wonderful than freedom.

"Severus!" Hermione called, though her voice was raspy and weak.

He stopped immediately, whirling his head around to find her, to find the source of her voice.

"Hermione? Hermione! Where are you?"

Hermione stumbled out from the behind the tree and into a little clearing until he saw her. Like a wild and reckless joy, he ran to her, his black eyes never wavering until, at last, he reached her and pulled her to him. Hermione pressed her forehead into his warm chest as his arms wrapped around her, and she felt her breathing hitch, momentarily losing control. But he held her silently, his gentle heart thumping against her cheek. She stood in silence, getting control of her breathing, as she understood with a wondrous certainty, that Severus was here, that he was real. She gave herself a moment to feel his arms around her, to feel the rise and fall of his chest.

And then she took a deep breath and pulled back and looked up at him. She fixed him in her mind - his black eyes, burning with repressed emotion, his long, thick hair, now a ridiculous mess that nearly made her chuckle, and gentle hands that had steadied her through everything she had endured those past difficult months.

"Severus," she said softly, barely trusting herself to speak. "You're here."

He took her cheeks between his palms, his long hair moving with the morning breeze, the rising sun reflecting in his ebony eyes. "Hermione," he said, just as quietly, his voice trembling with weariness. "Where else would I be? Yes, I am here. With you."

Hermione smiled and leaned into his hands. "What I said to you earlier, before I left - the first time," she chuckled. "I meant it."

His eyes glinted in understanding and he took her little hands in his and turned them over, palms-up. And his eyes searched her over with his deep, bottomless gaze.

"I love you, Hermione Granger."

She smiled gloriously, all the fatigue and worry leaving her for one, brief moment.

And then her smile turned mischievous. "You better."

* * *

_A/N: Only one more chapter to go! I promise to tie everything all up in the final chapter - and I really hope you all don't hate me too badly for killing Draco off. It was a sort of necessary evil, I thought. Anyways, as always, leave your thoughts - I am always anxious to read them. I appreciate everyone's reviews and support on this story more than you know. And, as something to look forward to, we'll have lots of Severus/Hermione time before this all closes.  
_


	20. Chapter 20

_"Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end."_

- Seneca

* * *

**Chapter 20: The Start**

* * *

The wind whipped tears to Hermione's eyes and she pulled her cloak tighter around her neck. It had begun to snow again, lightly.

_Figures_, Hermione thought miserably, suppressing a sigh.

Severus sat beside her, upright, the very epitome of self-control. He had been characteristically quiet and somber during the proceedings thus far, even as the Kingsley Shacklebolt offered a lengthy, albeit rather emotionless eulogy.

_Are there words fit enough to give Draco's life justice in only a few moments? _Hermione thought, bitterly. _To say that he lived a troubled, difficult life, but still managed to do the right thing in the end - is such a statement really enough to honor him? _

_How is that enough?_

She felt Severus' hand creep into her own and she closed her eyes.

_It will never be enough._

She owed Draco her life.

It was such a strange sensation, the debt she felt toward him, the obligation it created. And as Hermione stared numbly ahead at the cedar casket that housed Draco Malfoy's body, there was no doubt in her mind that if he had not done what he did for her, it would have been her own body in a similar casket, preparing to be lowered into the cold earth.

She shivered, and blinked rapidly to stay the tears that had been threatening to fall all morning.

And Ron, who sat on the other side of her, blue eyes distant and glossy, she knew, would never be the same, either. Ron and Draco, oddly enough, were alike in a surprisingly many ways. Both had been deeply prejudice - Draco with anything that contained _tainted_ blood; and Ron, with anyone who was affiliated with Slytherin House. Draco's long-felt beliefs and paradigms had been rocked before his death, and now Ron, who looked utterly lost beside her, was certainly going through something similar.

The ceremony was small. The mourners few. Aside from herself and Severus, there were only a handful of others that had gathered on the Hogwart's grounds next to Dumbledore's white tomb. Since their return from the forest in Germany, Harry had fought unceasingly against the Ministry on the decision of Draco's final resting place. The majority of the ministry officials had been enraged that the Death Eater turned _noble_ would be lay to rest next to Albus Dumbledore. But Harry refused to relent on the matter, and finally, Shacklebolt, in a moment of true character, agreed to let Draco have that one, final honor.

Shacklebolt had finished speaking, and the Ministry officials moved into position with their wands, preparing to lower Draco's casket deep into the cool earth. Everyone rose, Severus tugging Hermione gently to her feet as they all stood in one last and final respect. There was only one flower arrangement on the casket, a wonderful monster of a thing - too ostentatious, even for Draco Malfoy.

_He would have hated it_, Hermione thought, her eyes combing over the white roses. _And white? Did these people even think about what he might have liked?_

But everyone was moving to the casket now, grabbing a handful of earth and letting it fall onto the casket with a resounding finality. Hermione wondered about Narcissa Malfoy - if she even knew her son had been killed, let _alone_ at her husband's hand.

She stood back respectfully as Severus stepped forward, suddenly very aware of the intimacy of the moment. Severus had been Draco's Head of House for six years - and _more_ than that, a family friend and Godfather. For Severus, Hermione blinked back the tears, it was surely like losing a friend, a son. She watched Severus kneel, the thick curtain of his black hair obscuring his face. He reached to the ground, grabbing a fist full of damp dirt, and then stood, muttering quietly to himself with closed eyes as he let the earth trickle out through his fingers and scatter over Draco's casket.

The sound of the dirt hitting the cedar resonated impossibly loud in Hermione's ears.

And then Severus took two careful steps backward and Hermione, swallowing a lump in her throat, moved forward on shaky feet. The dirt felt cool and rough in her already cold hands. She could have easily cast warming charm before the services, but something had moved her not to. No, Draco was dead and cold in the ground, and she, for a few moments, could at least share that with him. Holding her hand out over the hole in the earth, she suddenly felt moved to say something.

"And to think we hated each other all during school," Hermione half-laughed, half-sobbed. And then she instantly grew somber and swallowed thickly."I...I will never forget what you did for me, Draco," she whispered. She knew it was impossible for anyone to hear her small voice over the wind; but she felt compelled to speak aloud, nonetheless. "I promise, there won't be a day that goes by that I won't think about you and remember what you did. And for Ron," she blinked, and a tear fell down her cheek. "Thank you...for saving my friend. You saved him in more ways than one," she swallowed again and felt the knot in her stomach tighten even further. "I will never forget you."

She walked over to Severus then, who was looking at her in quiet wonder. With that deep, bottomless gaze, he wiped a stray tear from her cheek with his thumb and index finger.

"Come," he whispered, taking her small hand in his own. "There will be an infinite amount of time to grieve. There is nothing more that can be done here, and Mr. Weasley needs a moment."

Hermione looked over her shoulder to see Ron and Harry standing where Draco had been lowered into the earth. Finding it strangely difficult to summon her voice, she merely nodded and let Severus take her by the arm and they made their way across the grounds and back towards Hogwarts. Hermione started, once or twice on the long walk back to the castle, to utter her own words of assurance and sympathies to Severus; but there was something fragile about the quiet. Something reverent.

There was the customary meal served in the Great Hall after the services. It was quiet and somber, the few voices that were heard were soft, respectful whispers. Harry and Ron had come and sat next to Hermione and Severus, both drawn and quiet. Hermione wanted to utter words of comfort to Ron, who appeared completely and utterly lost, eyes bright with unshed tears, not even looking at the food on his plate. But she didn't. She could tell he was unreachable now, that he had pulled away. Words or action would either be superfluous or harmful.

Harry, sipping quietly on a tall glass of pumpkin juice, was the first to break the silence. "There was a sighting of Lucius in Poland," he offered simply, causing Severus' black eyes to light up with understanding. "Buckley has Aurors stationed in the area. There's a fairly good chance now, with no where else to go, that someone will recognize him and we'll be able to bring him in."

Severus' face was impassive. "That is an idealistic hope at best, Mr. Potter. I fear you will find his cunning and resourcefulness a formidable opponent, as was the first time, before the Aurors tracked him down."

"We'll find him," Ron said, speaking for what Hermione assumed was the first time that day. His normally jovial voice sounded hard and empty.

Hermione raised her eyebrow quizzically. "_We_, Ron?"

He blinked, his gaze on his full plate of food. "Yes. I already told Harry I'm helping him in this. It doesn't matter that I'm not an Auror. I'm helping."

"Yeah," Harry confirmed, looking keenly at the silver glass in his hand. "I'm hoping we'll be able to find Narcissa. I think, depending on if she's aware of the...current circumstances, that she would help us, if she could."

Hermione nodded gently in understanding. There would always be rouge Death Eaters on the loose. Always some distant threat on the horizon. Whether it was Lucius or some other nutter, it was a certain fact. That was the world they lived in. To pretend otherwise would be dangerously foolish and naive. And as Hermione looked around from Harry to Ron, and then to Severus, she knew that there would always be people standing guard to watch over and protect the things that were right. That were good.

And despite the incoherent moan of her heart over the loss of Draco, for a brief moment, as she looked at her friends and Severus, she knew with an unshakable certainty that eventually, somehow, things would be right again. She turned to look at Severus, who was already watching her with penetrating eyes, and knew that he, too, was thinking the same thing. Reaching her little hand out to him from under the table, she felt his rough, nimble fingers close around hers, his thumb and forefinger grazing her palm.

She sighed. Enough for now. For now, it was just she and Severus. And that was enough for her.

* * *

"Come in! It's open!" Hermione shouted, as the quiet rapping of knuckles sounded on the entrance to her private quarters.

The thick wooden door swung inwards on its hinges, reveling a slightly out-of-sorts Severus Snape.

"Where have you been?" he asked, crossing the expanse of the room in one fluid motion to where she sat at her large oak desk. "You weren't at supper in the Great Hall."

Hermione flicked her wand to sort her essays into three, neatly stacked piles. "I went to leave some flowers for Draco and Dumbledore. The grass down there is _finally_ turning green. I thought it would look nice," she added, with a shrug.

Severus stared at her a moment, and there was a dry twinkle in his black eyes. "And what flowers did you leave for Draco?"

Hermione smiled. "Snapdragons. Tied in a green ribbon."

"Ah," Severus said, advancing until he neared the side of the desk and then reached to pull her from the chair to her feet. "I think he would have been fond of those."

"Yes," Hermione said. "So do I."

The months that followed Draco's murder had been mad, pivotal for the Aurors, and entirely stressful for Hermione as she returned to teaching. Lucius still hadn't been found, though Harry was convinced the Aurors were making headway. Ron had given up his spot on whichever Quidditch team he had currently been playing for, and had been assisting Harry and the Auror Department in any way he could. He had owled Hermione, not a week before, to tell her he would be taking the Auror examinations to become fully inducted into the Department. Reading the letter in Ron's chicken-scratch handwriting, Hermione had nearly cried.

She had never been more proud of him.

"I was worried about you," Severus said with a little half-smile.

Rolling her eyes, Hermione replied, "When _don't_ you worry about me?"

"When I sleep," Severus offered, truthfully. "But even then, nightmares can almost be worse than reality."

Sighing, Hermione put her hands on her hips, "Merlin, Severus. You're worse than Harry and Ron. And _that's_ saying something."

He stared at her a long moment, finally breaking the silence with a mock-scowl on his face. "If Gryffindors weren't inherently magnets for disasters and idiotic decisions, then perhaps I wouldn't have to keep an eye on you _all_ of the time."

"Please," Hermione said mildly, "Don't make me slap you like I did Ron and Harry. I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

Severus almost _did_ smile then, his eyes lighting up with intrigue. "It is _most_ unfortunate that I missed either one of those occasions." And then his face darkened. "And what would prompt you to strike Mr. Potter or Mr. Weasley? What did they - "

Hermione laughed, "Oh, Severus, honestly. They didn't do anything to me. They were merely being prats and deserved what they got. And if you don't stop clucking over me like a mother hen, then I'll do that _and _worse to you."

Severus raised one brow. "Worse?"

Hermione smiled and pulled on the neck of his robe, bringing his face downward until his lips were on hers, tugging at them gently. She felt one of his hands on the side of her face, working its way into her thick hair, the other, pulling her waist as close to him as was humanly possible. And then, _Oh, Merlin_, he was moving her toward the little archway that led to her bedchamber. And just as they were about to tumble onto the soft bed, Hermione pulled back.

"Severus, wait."

He stopped immediately, pulling back to look down at her, his eyes raw and unprotected.

"What is it?"

Hermione bit her lip, her eyes immediately dropping to the floor. "You don't still think about _her_, do you? I mean...when we're..._together_ - "

He appeared genuinely startled by the question, but still managed to bring one finger to her lips to silence her before she could continue any further.

"Is that what you think?" he asked, very softly.

Hermione shook her head, her cheeks red with embarrassment. "I don't know. I know I shouldn't think about it, that it's something in your past. But sometimes, irrationally, I know, I can't help but wonder...," she trailed off, looking at a small crack in the stone floor.

Kobic hooted loudly in the silence.

She felt his finger on her chin, tilting her head until her eyes were locked firmly with his. "Why," he asked gently, "Did you not tell me sooner that you were having these fears?"

She dropped her eyes again. "I was ashamed."

Again, he tilted her head upward, forcing her to meet his eyes. "Hermione," he said softly, "You think that I don't trust your heart." He shook his head. "There's nothing I trust more. Lily was in my life for one reason; to keep my soul in tact. And while, yes, I loved her for a time, so very long ago, I lost those sentiments the moment I saw _you_ in Grimmauld Place."

Hermione swallowed and looked away again. "I'm sorry. Merlin, I must sound like a possessive teenager," she chuckled. "I just, I couldn't help but wonder...,"

He looked down at her fondly, with that same quiet wonder that nearly stole her breath away. "It is _you_ I love, Hermione. For the rest of my life, I will love you and no other."

Her eyes met his again, levelly, and she held his gaze. Something massive stirred there, something raw and real.

Reaching up to touch his cheek, she whispered, "And I, you."

Severus smiled softly and rested his forehead against hers. And Hermione knew, as they stood there together in her little bedchamber, that this was the start or something new, something extraordinary. And even more, something that was _hers_.

* * *

Spring blossomed into summer and once again, Hermione Granger found herself in one of the courtrooms of the Ministry of Magic, sitting before a panel of Aurors for her annual performance review.

"Miss Granger, please understand that we must ask you a few questions to first ascertain the effects of the Veritaserum," William Buckley said, returning to his chair.

"Of course, sir."

"Do you, Hermione Granger, believe in love?"

A broad smile appeared on Hermione's face and she felt her stomach flutter.

"Yes, sir. I do."

* * *

_A/N: Wow! Talk about a labor of love! Well, there you have it. At long last - finished! I can't tell you how enjoyable this was to write, and how deeply grateful I am for the wonderful thoughts of encouragement and comments on each and every chapter. Thank you so much for all your support. I plan to, hopefully sooner rather than later, start a new HG/SS fic, so keep your eyes peeled for that one. Thank you again; I adore you all!_


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